Tales of Two Cousins Coop's Tale by Rielle
by Gabrielle Baer
Summary: Chris Hale's wagon train is being followed by a dangerous band of former Rebels. They have trouble in mind for Hale's head scout, Cooper Smith and for some of his passengers too. And as usual Hale has a lot more to deal with.
1. Chapter 1

Mount Up With Wings As Eagles

Second Tale of Two Cousins Wagon Train Laramie crossover series by Rielle

a Laramie/Wagon Train Crossover Fic by Roniyah Gabrielle Caitrin Bhaer

Author's Note: This is where I could be saying : 'you asked for it.' Because I have been asked to write some Wagon Train and or Laramie fanfiction for the enjoyment [ I hope] of the RFFN list. But I won't say that, honestly.

I'd rather just say, please enjoy, please let me know what you think of this latest effort of mine,. But my sole intent is to offer you some enjoyable reading, along with some of my own ideas about the Laramie and Wagon Train characters. So, you actually SHOULD consider this story as existing in a PARALLEL UNIVERSE , an alternative one to the one presented by those two classic westerns, with some notable variations. And please excuse the liberties I've taken, my 'poetic license', as it were with events, dates, and even names in the lives of the well loved characters in this story. And I took some literary liberties with 'facts not in evidence' in the series as it aired, too; along the lines of things we didn't see or hear on-screen

But if I haven't made it clear enough, as yet, this story wouldn't have been written, without the friendships and fun and such I 'lucked onto' on the Robert Fuller Fandom list. And so because of that, I want and need to genuinely thank all my recently made friends there. I … was grateful just to find all y'all… and now that gratitude is, I hope, clearly shown in these pages ( Special thanks goes to Moira, Carol, Barb, Cat, Twins, and Elaine for their kind words, reading and encouragement. (

Oh, and in case you haven't guessed it, these 'tales' wouldn't exist in any form without the wondrous inspiration of the following amazingly gifted, and tremendously generous people: Barbara Stanwyck, John McIntire, Spring Byington, Hoagy Carmichael, Frank McGrath, Terry Wilson, Denny Miller, Michael Burns, Robert Fuller, and John Smith. My constant gratitude to them will hopefully be apparent in the following pages.

Disclaimer : None of the onscreen characters from Revue/Universal's 'Laramie' or 'Wagon Train' belong to me. And I'm prett nigh onta busted up about that, too. Instead they all

belong to the creative minds of John Champion and Howard Christie, and all the gifted

writers, directors, producers, and actors of those two classic, classy Westerns. Sigh. No copyright infringement or profit taking is intended by this work of fiction, so don't sue me please; the studio/company, etc attorneys have 'many, many things' better to do.

Roniyah Gabrielle Caitrin Bhaer Summer, 2007

Cast of Characters -- Second Tale

[ As this is fanfiction, with the usual handful of new characters introduced to the kindly readers, I thought this listing might be helpful. Yes, I'm also an old movie nut :) Rielle ]

Onscreen Laramie characters:

John Smith as Matthias McGregor 'Slim' Sherman'.

Robert Fuller as Jacob Emrys Sayer Smith ' Jess' Harper

Dennis Holmes as Michael Timothy 'Mike' Williams.

Stuart Randall as Mort Corey

And

Spring Byington as Margaret 'Daisy' Cooper

off screen Laramie characters:

Hoagy Carmichael as 'Jonesy'

Robert Crawford, Jr. as Andrew Denholm, 'Andy' Sherman

With

Jacqueline Scott as Francine 'Francie' Harper Brady McKittrick

Onscreen Wagon Train characters:

John McIntire as Liam Christopher Hale

Robert Fuller as Nathaniel Kieran Anglim Cooper 'Coop' Smith'

Terry Wilson as Liam 'Bill' Hawks

Frank McGrath as Charles Albert 'Charlie' Wooster

Denny Miller as Christopher 'Duke' Shannon

Michael Burns as Barnaby James West.

And

Barbara Stanwyck as Kathleen Elizabeth 'Kate' Crawley.

Off screen Wagon Train characters:

Jack Easton, Jr. as Thomas Jefferson 'Jeff' Smith

And

Rhonda Fleming as Sandra Cummings

Invented, Created or Extrapolated Characters:

Onscreen characters

Starring:

John Spencer as Thomas Michael 'Mac' Macquillan

With

Martin Sheen as Ulysses Simpson Grant

And

Ross Martin as Adam Auriel Elisha Morgan

Robert Conrad as Jemison Stephen Wesleyan Randolph Singer, MD

William Shatner as Jacques Merlion Etienne D'eglisier MD

With

Coop's, Jess, Jemmy's and Slim's family:

Ethel Barrymore as Constance Alexandra Singer

[Jemmy's paternal great aunt]

John Barrymore as Aidan Micheal Tierney Singer

[Jemmy's paternal grandfather]

Lionel Barrymore as Stephen Desmond Singer

[Jemmy's paternal great uncle]

Ingrid Bergman as Mirielle Anastaise Meraud Clement Harper

[Jess' paternal grandmother, Coop's great aunt]

Spring Byington as Celia Roisin Amalia Torrance Randolph

[Jemmy's maternal grandmother]

Harry Carey, Sr. as Andrew Dorrance Sherman [Slim's paternal grandfather]

Gary Cooper as Mathias McGregor Sherman, Sr. [Slim's father]

Delores Costello as Miranda Isabeau Clement Singer

[Jemmy's paternal grandmother]

Bette Davis as Leah Micaela Isibeal Randolph Smith

[Jacob Smith's wife, Coop's paternal grandmother]

Olivia de Havilland as Sarah Rebecca Naomi Smith Traherne

Kirk Douglas as Ceallach Niall Kieran Cooper

[Coop and Jess' maternal uncle ]

Henry Fonda as Francis Marion 'Frank' Harper [Jess' father]

Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. as Samuel Adams Harper

[Frank's brother, Jess' uncle]

Joan Fontaine, as Sian Rachel Morwenna Smith

Greer Garson as Aileen Rianna Cooper Randolph

[Coop's other maternal aunt]

Dorothy Gish as Imogen Alys Smith

Lillian Gish as Siobhan Cathleen Smith

Stewart Granger as Ethan Niall Randolph [Jemmy's maternal uncle]

Corinne Griffith as Meredydd Jennet Traherne Cooper

[Jess and Coop's maternal grandmother]

Susan Hayward as Tess [Theresa] Kathleen Margred Harper

[Jess' paternal aunt]

Helen Hayes as Angharad Aine 'Annie' Denholm Sherman

[Slim's mother]

Paul Henreid as Elias Alexander [Alexandre] Harper

[Jess' paternal grandfather, Coop's great uncle]

Katherine Hepburn as Elisabeth Micaela Cooper Smith [Coop's mother]

Leslie Howard as Jonathan David Traherne [Coop's uncle by marriage]

Walter Huston as Nathaniel Kieran Cooper, Rev.

[Coop and Jess' maternal grandfather]

Dean Jagger as Ian Pedr [John Peter] Smith

[Danny's brother, Coop's paternal uncle]

Kirk Douglas as Ceallach Niall Kieran Cooper

[Coop and Jess' maternal uncle ]

Deborah Kerr as Raissa Ysabel Terrwyn Traherne Randolph

Dame Vivien Leigh as Jessamyn Roisin Randolph Singer [Jemmy's mother]

James Mason as Stephen Jemison Singer [Jemmy's father]

Mary Miles Minter as Sorcha Rebecca McGregor Sherman

[Slim's paternal grandmother]

Thomas Mitchell as Kieran Donovan Randolph

[Jemmy's maternal grandfather]

Maureen O'Sullivan as Talitha Sianna Mered Harper [Jess' paternal aunt]

Gregory Peck as Doevid Andonn Traherne [Jemmy's brother in law]

Claude Rains as Jacob Emrys Sayre Smith

[Coop's paternal grandfather, Jess' paternal great uncle ]

Jean Simmons as Celia Deirdre Singer Traherne [Jemmy's older sister]

Barbara Stanwyck as Jennet Meredydd Cooper Harper [Jess' mother] James Stewart as Daniel Webster Smith [Coop's father]Norma Talmadge as Miriam Ruth Smith Constance Talmadge as Naomi Elspeth Smith Natalie Talmadge as Dorcas Tabitha Smith

Arthur Kennedy as Corin Micheal Liam Cooper

[ Jess and Coop's maternal uncle ]

**The bad guys: 'The Company'** [first formed by Gen. Pascale, then led by Lee Henry, then by Solomon Howell.

[With some uncertain* and some outright undercover good guys*** mixed in for fun]

Salome Jens as Eugenie Isabelle Morrissey Pascale

Anthony Zerbe as Lee Henry Richard Morrissey 1

Anthony Perkins as Solomon Howell

David Jannsen as Phillips Napier Pascale, 'genie's' late husband2

Tim Matheson as Sean Oriel Liam Hoynes ***

Gary Dourdan as Phillip Johnston

Michael Ealy as Jamey Johnston

James Stacy as Ezekiel Adamson

Frank Langella as Palmerston Montagu

Vincent D'onofrio as Roberto Geronne

Matthew Ashford as Devlin 'Dev' Jackson3

Kamar de los Reyes as Teo Bracamante*** aka Tyler Pierce

David Fumero as Matthias Randolph *** aka Matthew Harkins

Jeff Branson as Edward 'Neddy2' Robert Denys Morrissey

Lee Henry's son

Bryan Dattilo as Jemison Randolph 'Rand' Alexander***

Robert Kelker Kelly as Brady Beauregard Alexander*4

Michael Easton as Kieran 'Kiery' Tanner***

Forbes March as Miller Nash*

Kyle Brandt as Chris Phillipsen ***

Cameron Matheson as Michael William Stewart*

Jeffrey Carlson as Edward 'Neddy1' Robert Denys Morrissey5

Eugenie and Lee Henry's deceased brother

Jean Paul Lavoisier as Jaimey Gordon

Bill Smith as Jordy Ashford

John Ireland as Adam Elisha Traherne

Patrick Swayze as Chance Stuart

Ron Perlman as Quincy Stuart6

Cameron Mitchell as Gordon Arthur 'Arty' West

Van Heflin as Morgan Aurelien 'Aury' West 7

Dana Andrews as Alexander 'Alec' Morgan Alan Ladd as Jonathan David Morgan

David Marx as Torin Cinaed Kuenle8

Jensen Ackles as Desmond Piaras Kuenle8

Dan Wells as Liam Micheal Kuenle1

Kevin Todd Smith as Robby Kearney Torrance9

Jude Law as Ian Flannery Torrance12

Peter Brown as Padraic Keallach Hoynes13

Doug McClure as Devin Cleary Hoynes10

Gary Clarke as Sean Micheal Hoynes15

Rob Lowe as Julien Duval Clement11

Kurt McKinney as Jean Baptiste Clement12

Patrick Swayze as Charles Albert 'Chance' Stuart13

Ron Perlman as John Quincy Adams Stuart19

Antonio Banderas as Christophe Apollonaire Boudin20

Thaao Penglis as Giles Toussaint Boudin21

Stuart Whitman as Andre Honore Boudin14

Yul Brynner as Anatole Perrin Boudin15

Tommy Lee Jones as Addison Cooper Deveraux24

Patrick Duffy as Nolan Randolph Deveraux16

Harrison Ford as Joshua Zadkiel Whelan26

Brad Pitt as Nathan Remiel Whelan17

Jack Coleman as Adam Elijah North18

Gordon Thomson as Zachary Hosea North29

Clu Gulager as Jesse Broderic Howlys19

Lane Davies as Rhys Arawn Howlys20

Hugh Jackman as Eamon Meical Howlys32

Efrem Zimbalist, Jr as Beauregard Campion Hamilton33

Roark Critchlow as Brody Dareau Hamilton34

Eric Winter as Ethan Lucien Hamilton21

Travis Wood as Daniel James Randolph36

Clayton Rohner as Timothy Ross Tierney37

David Loren as Jonathan Corrin Munroe22

Ian Harrison as Henry Barret Madsen23

Jason Breznikar as Dariell Aurelien Ashton40

John Drew Barrymore as Neil Thomas Horton24

Justin Kahn as Gordon Arthur Davidson25

Kian O'Grady as Ceallach Niall Brennan43

Tyler Fawcett as James Charles Stewart44

Will Devry as Alain Eduard Morrison26

Zach Schillace as Ewan Deiniol Rhys46

Second Tale of Two Cousins, part one of two

CHAPTER ONE Chris Hale's train outside Fort Kearny, Nebraska in the 1870s.

''Well of course I don't believe you, Charlie!'' Cooper Smith exclaimed, crinkling his blue eyes in a tired grin as wide as the Rio Grande, rubbing one hand through his dark, unruly hair in a gesture of disbelief.

''And just why don't you?'' Charlie demanded, crossing his arms across his chest, which only made him look all the more like a bantam rooster, a bantam rooster with a receding hairline and a salt and pepper beard on his jutting chin.

'' Just because it's just about the most dang foolish thing I think I've ever heard you say. In fact, Charlie, it's just plain crazy!'' Coop answered, still laughing, looking around to the others in Charlie's current 'audience', wondering why they weren't laughing with him.

'' Well, foolish or not, crazy or not, it's the plain, unvanished truth, Coop.'' Charlie insisted. ''And just because you weren't here at the time to hear what I did, doesn't make it any less true.''

'' Charlie, c'mon, now. I know you like to have your fun sometimes. I know you like to come up with one tall tale or another for the kids on the train, to pass the time. But I'm not one of those kids. And I don't think even the youngest of them would believe this one, anymore than I do. So, c'mon, give it up now, Charlie, you're making this up, aren't you?''

''But he can't, Coop. He's not, I mean.'' Barnaby West said, piping up with a serious tone to match the worried look on his face. Coop looked over at the youngster and saw Barney's wide grey eyes were wider than usual with that worry, and that Barney was trying hard not to bite at his lower lip. '' Charlie and me, we both heard Mr. Chris talkin' to Miss Kate. And we both heard them talking about when Mr. Chris would retire. And''

'' And we've all heard them havin' that conversation a few hundred times by now, Barney.'' Coop shook his head a gain, and turned to put one long hand reassuringly on each of the boy's thin shoulders. Barney's wide grey eyes held some melancholy and even a little dread. This youngster'd had found on the Hale train a home, and in it's crew, his family, when he had no place and no one else. And Chris Hale had become the orphaned boy's father in all but name, even to tutoring and disciplining Barney, when needful. [No wonder Charlie's latest gossip mixed in with some half made up, half eavesdropped on talk of Kate and Chris, has Barney looking like a whipped puppy, tonight.]

''And they'll have the same one a few hundred more times. But that only means Kate is havin' her fun, jibin' at Chris about takin it easy. So you see, Barney, if that's all you and Charlie heard, or eavesdropped on, it doesn't mean anything like what Charlie's sayin', not anything like that, at all. So, relax. This is just what I thought, Charlie blowin' up a whole range of molehills, to make some new mountains., as if the Rockies and Sierra's we've still got to cross weren't enough. ''

'' You just got back, Coop, so you can't really say that. In fact, you missed too much of the story to make that call, yet, Coop.'' Duke Shannon now advised, his wide blue eyes full of certainty in what he said, his broad shoulders set.

''Yeah, like what?'' Coop asked, turning to frown at the tall, blond, strapping younger scout. Duke looked at Barney like a little brother to look out for. They all did that. So it didn't make sense that Duke would be adding to Barney's worries.

'' Like the part where Bill and I heard another conversation Chris and Kate had the same exact day, on the same exact subject.

And we came away with the idea pretty clear that Chris is thinkin' long and hard; whether or not he'll take another train out, next spring. ''Duke answered, nodding his head for emphasis.

'' You and Bill… '' Coop tried not to, but couldn't help laughing aloud, this time. ''You nearly had me goin' there, boys. You nearly did.''

'' We're not trying to have you goin', Coop.'' Grey haired ramrod Bill Hawks finally said, looking up from his accounts and books. '' We heard what we heard. And we heard Chris

say he wants to retire, come fall. And why would he say that, if he didn't mean to carry it through, this time.''

''Mebbee because he says just that each time we get to this point on the trail?'' Coop asked. '' And you, and Charlie and Duke, and Barney, have all been working for Chris Hale longer than I have; so you know that's true. The train gets bogged down, one way or another. The fords get flooded early, or the creek beds are wheel hub deep in mud, if they're not. Or some of the stock gets run off by local braves countin' coup the easy way, or a dozen other things like that happen, and we're not making good time.

So Chris begins to get worn down, he gets plumb worn out; but he won't say so for all the cotton in Alabam'. And he gets real disheartened, especially when some four-eyed greenhorn with an armload of books, or some panicky bunch of womenfolk who've never been out of their hometown before now, starts in on how Chris does what he does, or decides what he decides! Who wouldn't?''

''So, we're back to square one, is that right, Coop? You don't believe any of us?'' Duke challenged Coop, with a lazy tone of voice and the way he had of leaning his long frame against the wagon behind him, that belied the serious glint in his wide blue eyes.

'' Now just hold on there, buddy. Don't get your Irish up with me.'' Coop shook his head, taking advantage of the way Duke tended to slouch, to look the younger, taller man in the eye. ''I believe all y'all heard Chris and Kate Crawley talking about Chris retirin'. What I don't believe for a second is when th' train is just coming up to Fort Kearny, is that Chris is setting

a decision like this in stone. That's not the way the man operates. And like I said, all of you should really know that better than I do, by this time, you really should. ''

'' Hey, yeah, I think Coop's likely right about this.'' Barney said, looking around the group, with something more like his normal, crooked grin.

'' Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Barney.'' Coop nodded, returning the grin.

''Sure, Coop. Duke, Charlie, Bill, don't you think Coop's likely right?'' Barney asked the rest of his big brothers and mentors here, not to mention his very own, irascible, salt and pepper bearded 'mother hen'.

'' I suppose Coop could be right, just this once, just to keep us guessing.'' Bill allowed, with a similar, tired smile.

'' Just to keep you guessing is exactly right.'' Coop agreed, more pleased and more concerned with Barney's returning grin than he was with Bill's wry humor. ''And I'll tell you exactly how I know I'm right, this time. Chris gets real low in his mind whenever somebody on the train gets hurt, or G-d forbid, killed along the way. And that's what's got Chris talkin' retirin' this time. I know it, and all four of you know, too.

It hit us all hard when Missus Burke lost her little grandson, and nearly lost her daughter, Lissa, in that accident, just before I rode out. And there was nothin' any of us could do; nothin' we didn't try, to help them, was there? And Chris worked himself to a nub, tryin' harder than anyone else. And he took it damn hard. And that's what he always does and always will do. So what you fellows think has changed out of a blue sky, I can't begin to figure.''

'' I dunno, Charlie, d'you suppose we can go along with Bill and Barney, that Coop could be right, just this one time?'' Duke asked the cook, his own sense of humor restored, his wide blue eyes alight with fun.

'' Anythin's implausible, is what I've always heard.'' Charlie grumbled, and followed that by a loud harrumph, with which he turned his back on the entire group.

Coop couldn't help laughing aloud again at that. '''You know, the lot of you are the gloomiest bunch of Yankees I've ever run into, don't you?''

'' And just how many of us 'Yankees have you 'run into' exactly, Johnny Reb?'' Bill laughed, sounding and looking more like his normal, ever-skeptical self, again.

'' Oh, only a few tens of thousands, here and there, **Billy** Yank.'' Coop laughed. ''Funny thing, though, they never seemed to stick around when my First Texans came onto the field, against them.''

''Hmmph!'' Charlie frowned, turning back again, half grinning as he seemed to hear a new challenge. ''Your First Texans? That 'ol Ragged First' was your very own reg'ment then? I don't recall anybody callin' you 'Colonel Smith' anytime I ever heard of.''

''Details, details, Charlie. Coop and his regiment were likely too busy chasin' us Yankees around Virginia, Georgia and Tennessee to stop and get himself a formal promotion, I guess'' Duke laughed warmly, enjoying their usual, more comfortable banter.

'' And they ran right out of enough brass to make him that pair of full bird Colonel's … umm… birds Coop should've got, I guess.'' Barney nodded, happily joining in.

'' You've got that figured exactly right, Barney.'' Coop agreed, wondering what his old colonels Wigfall and Rainey, would think of this 'game'. ''That danged Yankee blockade plumb cheated me out of a pair of pretty, gold colored brass eagles!''

''And we're real, real sorry about that, Colonel Smith, sir!'' Charlie cracked wise, finally entering the fun of their exchange. ''Look out, fellas, here comes Mr. Chris!'' the cook then stage-whispered.

'' Maybe they're sorry. I'm not.'' Chris Hale announced, ignoring Charlie's whispering, walking up to join his friends. ''You only got back just now, did you, 'Colonel'?''

'' Hey, Chris, what's been going on here, while I was working? These fellows needed a good talkin' to, which I was glad to oblige them with.'' Coop turned with a wide grin and a bright eyed wink, to greet the Wagonmaster.

'' Oh they did, and you were, eh?'' Hale asked, shaking his head.

'' That's so, Mr. Chris. Coop was just getting us straightened out about some crazy thing Charlie told me.'' Barney offered, brightening now. Chris looked to be in a fine sort of mood, tonight.

'' Barney!'' Charlie protested, throwing his arms up in what looked like either despair or surrender.

'' And just what crazy thing was that?'' Chris asked, with a world-and-Charlie-Wooster weary sigh.

'' Mr. Chris, it was nothin', nothin' that matters a bit. It was just absotively nothin.'' Charlie now insisted, nodding his head emphatically.

' But I don't think so, Charlie, not according to what our 'Colonel Smith' was just sayin'.

So just what were you telling Barnaby that Coop had to straighten all of you out about?''

'' Chris, Charlie's right for once, it was nothin' at all.'' Duke offered, adding a vigorous nod.

''And Duke's right, for once, Chris. '' Bill agreed, with a quicker nod of his grey head. '' it was just a lot of nothin'.''

'' No, no, I don't think so. Please, enlighten me.'' Chris said, and it wasn't a request.

''Well, Chris, these fellows had you all done with leadin' wagon trains. In fact, they practically had you retired good and proper, smokin' your pipe, and fishin' all day, from some rockin' chair on some back porch between here and California!'' Coop answered, biting back his own grin, for now. The Wagonmaster's face was not giving so much as a hint of his native dry humor. Nor did his voice when he spoke again.

'' That doesn't sound so bad to me, just lately.'' Hale said, almost dropping the last two words below even Coop's sharp hearing, with a trademark taut half-grin on his weathered features.

'' Well, mebbee not just lately. But c'mon, Chris. We all know you're not the retirin' type,

not a bit.'' Coop argued, studying the older man's face for any sign he should be worried the way Barney had been. There was no such sign, one way or the other. The Wagonmaster instead was studying all five of his friends, his face impassive now.

'' Well, if by that you mean I've never been what you might call shy,'' Hale finally quipped. '' I'd have to agree. But that's not what I want to talk about right now. With all of you.''

Now a worried look winged its way around the circle of Hale's crew. They all knew Hale's stern tone and single-minded expression too well by this time. to do anything but chorus. ''Yes, sir.''

''Fine. Now, for reasons known only to you and G-d, from what Coop just said, the rest of

you not only think it's possible I might retire. You've already got me safely tucked away in retirement somewhere. You've already got me more or less permanently 'gone fishin'.'' Hale frowned.

''Only problem with that is, I haven't so much as mentioned the idea, not even the least scintilla of such an idea to any of you .And that might be because I know you'd have

the same reaction as our ''brevet-Colonel'' Smith, here, you'd tell me with just about the same certainty he has that I'm not going to retire, not ever, certain sure. And we'd all waste the rest of the day, if not the week, if not the rest of this trip arguing just that point. So I haven't discussed the idea of my retiring with you.

And that being the case, I can't help wondering what would put that particular idea into your heads. In fact, I can't help wondering which one, if not all of you have been eavesdropping on what I thought were mine and Katie's private conversations.'' Chris frowned, one salt and pepper eyebrow flying up his forehead in apparent consternation.

''Now, now, Mr. Chris, that's not what happened at all.'' Charlie insisted, shaking his head vigorously and looking, Coop thought, more and more worried.

'' Nope, it's not, Mr. Chris.'' Barney chipped in. But he kept looking away from the wagon master's clear, discerning gaze, his own grin growing nervous.

'' We wouldn't ever do that, Chris.'' Duke agreed, his blue eyes almost as wide as Barney's grey ones, now.

'' No, of course not.'' Bill nodded, with every appearance of nonchalance. ''Why would we?''

'' Don't look at me, Chris, I was up the trail almost all the way to Bridger, myself.'' Coop grinned, with his best wide-blue-sky innocent look.''

'' Yes, so you were. And when Coop got back, for reasons known only to G-d, the five of you gentlemen, out of a blue sky, just started to talk about whether or not I'm going to retire. Is that what happened, or is that what you want me to believe?'' Hale asked, frowning as darkly as he could manage at them.

''No, sir! Yes, sir! … Yes, sir! No, sir! '' they answered, so confusedly that Chris began to grin and then to chuckle, shaking his head. But just when his team was about to join in laughing, the Wagonmaster turned his blazing desert sky blue gaze on them and shouted:

'' Well, whichever it is, you can stop your eavesdropping, your theorizing, your speculating

and your gossiping like a flock of old New England biddy hens and listen to me! If I decide to retire after this trip or to make another, and another and yet another, until I finally drop dead somewhere between St. Joseph and Sacramento; that's my decision to make and that's my business to keep.

I've been making my own decisions since I was just about Barney's age. And I've been able to keep my own business to myself for quite a long while, too; that is until I ran into the lot of you busybodies! So let me finish setting you straight, shall I gentlemen? That's right, keep quiet! Because it wouldn't serve any of you very well right now, to interrupt me not even to answer my rhetorical questions. Good, now listen up! The only interest any of you gentlemen need have in my decisions and my business is if and when you need to find yourselves new jobs. Period! Now, is that sufficiently clear?''

'' Sure, Chris.'' Coop nodded, hiding a grin behind one gloved hand.

'' Yeah, Chris.'' Duke agreed nodding vigorously again.

'' Oh, it's clear as day, Mr. Chris.'' Charlie added, watching Chris intently for any further signs of righteous New England-Irish wrath.

'' Clear.'' Bill answered, carefully molding his own features to their most serious cast.

'' Guess it's clear, Mr Chris.'' Barney admitted, wondering what had brought that particularly Haleian thunderstorm on.

'' Barney, you don't sound very convincing, or convinced to me.'' Chris noted, shaking his head, his 'thunderstorm' gone as quickly as it came. ''And I'm sorry for shouting at you that way, son. You don't deserve it.''

'' Guess I do, Mr. Chris. Guess I did kinda, y'know, listen to Miss Kate and you, I was tryin' to hit the hay and I couldn't quite seem to.'' Barney shrugged, hoping his owning up would further placate his surrogate father.

''Barney's not to blame, not a bit, Mr Chris!'' Charlie protested. ''He just couldn't quite settle

in th' other night. So, I was tryin to find out if somebody near the cook wagon had any milk for him. And I just happened, as it was, to walk past where you and Miss Katie were talkin'…''

I see.'' Hale nodded. '' And you and Duke were helping Charlie look for milk, too?'' the Wagonmaster asked his ramrod.

'' No, sir. No… we … Duke and I were settling the question of the first watch, seein' as Coop wasn't back, yet.'' Bill answered glumly. He knew Hale wasn't 'buying' their jumbled, jumped together stories.

'' And we were talking about the watch, Chris and it was … Well, it seems like we must have stopped for a second, just a second or two, nearer your wagon than we thought.'' Duke offered, eagerly.

'' So the four of you, on two different occassions, just happened to overhear Katie and myself talking about what I may or may not do when this trip is done, purely by accident?'' Hale asked.

'' Yes, sir!'' the four of them heartily agreed.

''Coop, do you believe these fellows?'' Chris asked his head scout, one greying eyebrow winging upwards.

Coop opened his mouth and shut it and finally shrugged. ''I think it's as likely a story as any, Chris.''

'' Oh, thanks, Coop!'' Duke groaned, rolling his eyes.

'' Don't mention it.'' Coop grinned, wide as the Braxos.

'' I won't!'' Duke tried to glare back but couldn't.

'' Well, with that settled, and when you've finished your supper, may I suppose you have a moment or two free, ''Colonel'' , to let me know what you found, between here and 'almost all the way to Bridger'?''

'' Sure, Chris.'' Coop agreed, glad to see some of Hale's wry humor restored.

'' Over at my wagon, in a little while, then.'' Hale nodded. '' And maybe the rest of you gentlemen can find something to keep yourselves occupied, that doesn't have to do with my future plans?"

'' Yes, sir!'' the four eavesdroppers chorused again, and scattered to the four winds, while Coop went back to looking for anything the other four of Hale's crew might have left him that resembled supper.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Chris Hale went to look for the remains of his own supper, interrupted when Kate Crawley strolled by to say she heard Coop was back. Now Kate was sitting by Hale's small watch-fire, kept only to warm a pot of coffee, or an old Wagonmaster's bones, in the higher reaches of the mountains they'd yet to cross this year. And that particular old Wagonmaster had to admit to himself, if not to Kate or his crew, that he was always glad to find his long time friend waiting there, looking as comfortably at home as if …

[No, no, best set that the rest of that notion aside, old man.] Hale thought to himself

[Neither Katie, nor the rest of your friends are in any state of mind for you to go visiting that old wished for whim.] ''Hullo, Katie _mauvoreen_.'' Chris heard himself saying to her, despite that inner voice of caution.

''Well, hullo, Liam Christopher.'' She answered, her crystal blue eyes sparkling with love and humor both. ''You still look tired out, mauvoreen, old darling. And where's Coop? Didn't he have a report to give you about the trail from here to South Pass?''

''Oh, I'm sure he does. I left him to find himself something on the order of supper before he falls asleep on his feet. If Coop had any news that couldn't wait, it would have been the first thing he said to me, instead, of ''Hey, Chris, what's been going on here, while I was working?'' Hale told her, adding to the last part a fair rendition of his head scout's more than half broken east Texas drawl.

Kate sighed, and wrapped her arms around her old friend's neck and embraced him warmly, laughing at his rarely divulged gift for impersonation. Pulling back after a moment she studied Hale's weathered map of Ireland features and said something she'd been meaning to for some little while. '' You know, Chris, you two are still quite the mystery to me.''

'' We're a mystery, Katie? Coop and myself? Why?'' Hale asked, looking bemused, and she considered, and trying to look all innocence at the same time.

'' Well, I suppose it's just that I've so rarely seen two men as different as you and Coop appear to be, who get on as well as you generally do.'' Kate told him, watching to see how Chris picked up on her topic.

'' We manage.'' Chris said, still close to impersonating his head scout in voice and manner. He gave the freight-boss a quick glance to see if he could tell where she was going with this. [ Are you just exercising your native curiosity, Katie mauvoreen, or are you driving at something? Either way, I'm not driving in that direction. Not if I can help it! ]

'' You manage?'' Kate echoed, her eyes wide, silver eyebrows flying upwards.

'' Yes, Katie, old friend. we manage. '' Hale repeated, trying to keep his answer succinct and to the point, not sure she'd let him get away with as little as that.

'' And when the two of you spend half the day or half the night wrangling and shouting and losing both your Irish tempers over some point or other, what do you call that, Chris, old friend?'' Kate prodded, shaking her head. He wasn't going to get away with his favorite curt and curtailed New England style answers. Not with her, not tonight. She was on a tear and would get her answers.

''Oh, that's what I call Coop and myself managing.'' Chris answered, turning to study her face again, wondering what would shake her off this particular 'train of thought. '' We don't always agree on one point or another. Nobody does, not all the time. So, Coop and I get our Irish up and have a fine row, and a good, loud shouting match now and then.''

''And how does that end up working out for you, as a rule?'' Kate demanded, folding her arms across her chest and taking her most determined stance, knowing Chris would read it with absolute accuracy.

'' So far, so good.'' Chris shrugged. '' You haven't heard any gunfire or seen any blood being shed between us, have you, Katie? So, what's your point here? Why do you find it, or us to be any kind of mystery? I know any number of men who maintain their friendships with a modicum of earnest disagreements. Bill and Charlie are an even better example. They can go at each other as if they were fighting on opposite sides in a war, sometimes. But the truth is Charlie would carry Bill through a cannon barrage if need be, to save his friend's life. And Bill would do the same. They're like brothers, in fact, I'm sure they'd say they are brothers, after all they've been through together.''

''So you look at Coop as a younger brother, all right. And you're telling me he looks at you as the older brother he never had. I see.'' Kate answered, finding his answer didn't satisfy at all.

There was more to this, she was certain, if only because Chris was so eager to make less of it. She knew he was holding some part of this 'mystery' back. In fact, knowing Chris as she did, Kate was certain sure he'd been keeping this to himself for quite some time. Folding her arms and giving him a taut, impatient smile,

Kate went on in a lighter tone, thinking maybe she could make a feint at his left flank and get around his reluctant front, that way. '' You know, Chris, if that 'managing' is something you and Cooper do on a regular basis, you really should let people know when it's likely to happen, next. Then they would be able to move their wagons further down the line, and maybe get some sleep, or at least, cover their ears beforehand. The two of you can just about shout the house down.''

'' Not as long as we're out of doors.'' The Wagonmaster grinned tiredly and then more widely as he found he'd remembered to leave his small Dutch oven, with this afternoon's dinner still in it, next to, but not on the fire. ''Katie, you and I argue, don't we?'' Chris asked, hoping he wasn't making a prediction.

''Well, of course we do. You make me absolutely furious, sometimes, Chris Hale!'' Kate nodded.

''And if, as it seems, I've somehow managed to do that again, tonight, I very deeply apologize, Miss Crawley, ma'am.''

'' Well, I'm not furious, yet. But I accept, anyway. Only because I can see you're not giving me any more answers, just now. And you're not, are you, Chris?'' Kate demanded, trying and failing to glower at the Wagonmaster. He was the best friend she'd ever had and a great deal more to her. And part of that 'more' was very much tied up in the way Chris was delighted to see her, everytime they met again, whether they'd been apart hours, months or years. And part was made up of the way he insistently called her 'Katie' as if she were a wayward, hoydenish girl again. And then there was the way Chris would look at her, without saying a word for the longest time, and then fold her in his arms with only a whispered, tenderly melancholy, 'Katie, mauvoreen.'

Other parts were things she would never admit liking, much less loving about this world weary old New Englander-Irishman. There was the way she could not budge Chris Hale once he took a stand, or a stance. And that was all wrapped up in the way he could out-stubborn the oldest, orneriest Army mule team she'd ever prodded up a mountain, when it mattered. Because, Kate considered, the best part of his stubbornness always concerned his friends and the family he'd fashioned with them, in the years since his own was lost. The Wagonmaster's bedrock-adamant loyalty was a by-word on this Trail, in fact, everywhere he'd ever been. It shone like a lighthouse's beacon from his native New England coast, to keep those he cared for from losing their way home, to that self-made family, ever again.

'' Always glad to know you're paying attention, Katie.'' Hale non-answered her, without looking up, He knew she was less than pleased with his answers. He knew she'd try again, and again, until he capitulated.

''Always. And I'm to assume if your managing with Coop, if any of it had anything to do with me, I'd hear about it. Is that right?'' she asked, frowning at the idea.

'' Absolutely.'' Chris nodded, wondering if he'd finally gotten her off the subject.

'' You do know that I met Coop, when he was on the way to join your outfit, don't you?''

'' I think that came up in one conversation or another, yes.'' Hale answered, his hope of changing subjects flown.

'' Well, if I didn't tell you that whole story, sit back, eat your left over dinner and let me do that now. Coop was really something to see, and to listen to at that time. He was really full of himself, in a way. Oh, and he was full of bravado, too. He put up a fine show of confidence.

And yet he wasn't really sure, it seemed, why you picked him for head scout. He certainly seemed aware that you already had Duke signed on, as well as Bill, both of them more than qualified for the job Flint McCullough discarded.'' Kate said, and grinned as she straddled the bench next to Hale's watch-fire.

''Did Coop ask you what you thought were my reasons, Katie?'' Chris asked, studiously paying attention to his meal, rather than looking over at her.

'' I'm pretty sure he came close to asking. In fact, I'm sure he wanted to ask someone who knew you, just that question. And he wasn't about to ask you, of course, not when you'd shown such confidence in him, a man you'd never met in person at that time. I suppose he may have asked you since then, why you'd look up a stranger, and give him a job you had two good men already at hand for. I know in Coop's place, I surely would have asked you by now; why you'd hire on a head scout you only knew by reputation.''

''Well, Katie, there's the answer to your question, right there, in a nutshell.'' Hale nodded, looking up from his meal. '' Coop had, by the time I found I needed a head scout that year, made himself a reputation as one of the best scouts along the California Trail. And he practically taught himself how. And he learned the Trail virtually by heart, I should say, adding a lot onto the hunting and tracking skills he likely picked up as a youngster. Since that time, even though, no, Coop's never asked me, it's obvious to everyone that he's only built on that grounding. Its obvious Coop's become one of the best scouts on the California Trail, or just about any other. And no, I won't say that to his face. He'd only start plaguing me about a raise, starting next spring, if not right now!''

'' He probably would, at that. I wonder what Coop' d take to come ramrod my outfit?'' Kate laughed, knowing Hale wouldn't take her seriously, thinking how proud Chris sounded of Coop's accomplishments.

'' You're not going to make me that kind of trouble, are you, Katie mauvoreen?'' Chris asked, half joking and half pleading with her, now.

'' I wouldn't dream of making you that kind of trouble, Liam Christopher, mauvoreen.'' Kate grinned, and winked at him. ''Not if you've got some of that Irish coffee in that pot next to your watch fire for me, that is.''

'' I don't, Katie. And that I deeply, deeply regret.'' Chris sighed. '' But that head scout of mine, the one you're asking all these questions about, is coming over in a short while to tell me what he found on the trail between here and Bridger.''

''Well, you said yourself if there had been anything urgent, Coop would've already told you.'' Kate protested. ''So surely anything else can wait, now can't it?''

'' And should I send word back across the camp, for all the gossips including Charlie Wooster to get wind of, that the Wagonmaster has … an assignation?'' Chris asked, not even looking her way, and still feeling his neck and face get warm.

'' I love the way you say that sort of word! You get all sweet and shy, like a young beau, all

of a sudden! '' Kate teased him. ''But, no. No, you shouldn't. Charlie and I are only lately beginning to mend our fences. He still doesn't like me staying inside the circle-up. I'll say good night, when Coop come over and then go on about my own business.''

'' Katie, one thing I know you and I have talked about, as regards my head scout: Coop's not much for confidences. In fact, I'd add that it's fair to say he won't answer a lot of questions about himself. I suppose you'd say that's one of the ways we're different, Coop and I.'' Chris told her, frowning again.

'' No, I'd say it's one of the ways you two are very much alike. It took me years to get any sort of decent answers out of your obstinate hide, Chris Hale. And there's really only one question I'd like to ask Coop, but on your advice, I suppose I won't. Still I'd love to know, when it comes to all that 'managing' you were describing; when he can get that angry with you, why does he stay on here?''

'' I daresay it's not Charlie's cooking.'' Chris laughed. ''And I daresay Coop wouldn't give you much more of an answer than that. He's rather a private person, Katie. And surely, you'll admit he's got as much right as anyone to be so.''

'' I'll admit it, surely. But you and I are going to have the rest of this conversation, and in the not too distant future, my friend.'' Kate told him, her bright, clear eyes showing her brilliant mind's busy workings. ''Because why Coop stays on is only half of the equation, isn't it? The other half is why, especially when you get into these shouting matches, do you keep a man on who seems so well able to kick that temper of yours into high gear? So what is going on here, Chris Hale, that I don't know about?'' she asked, again.

'' Katie, I seriously doubt there's much, if anything that you don't know about me, after all this time. So, you already do know that sometimes I can enjoy a good shouting match. It gets my blood running at a decent pace again; just when I begin to worry I might be turning into an old man. And you already know that it's like pulling teeth to get most folks on this train to so much as gainsay me, don't' you ? Bill won't, it's just not his temperament. Duke won't, he's said as much. Unless someone or something really provokes him; he just won't argue with someone he respects. And then there's Barnaby, who is growing the ability to argue with me and the others. But he's almost as chary of it as Duke, and clearly wants to be as even tempered as Bill.

That leaves my passengers, who only argue with me when they're absolutely scared to death. You can understand I'd prefer they not find themselves in just that frame of mind. And that leaves only Coop or Charlie to argue with me. And Charlie argues with everybody, so that hardly counts, now does it? So that leaves Coop, and we manage to have a fine argument from time to time without any broken bones or wrecked egos to show for it afterwards. Does that settle the matter for you, Katie?'' Chris asked, pouring all the reason and calm he could into his tone.

''Maybe it does. I'll think about it. I'll take it under advisement. And of course you're right about Bill and Duke and the boy. But there's still a gaping hole in your 'argument' Counselor. '' Kate shook her head. '' Charlie Wooster is a tough old bird, to be sure. He's indisputably a survivor. And he's survived this long by knowing better than to ever seriously argue with the man in charge, whether that be his old friend Seth Adams, or his new friend, Chris Hale.

You kept Charlie on, when he knows as well as I do, anyone else would have turned him out

to starve, after 'the Major' died. So Charlie fusses over you like a mother hen, the same way he does over Barnaby; and over anyone else who'll let him. Charlie and Barnaby have this in common: they both think you could probably walk on water, if you took half a mind to. In other words, Charlie Wooster reveres and loves you, old friend, which is very likely the reason he can hardly abide me, still. But Charlie doesn't raise any sort of important argument with you, Chris. And he never will.

So, yes, we're back to Coop, who has just as quick an Irish temper as you, and almost nothing more in common, with you, or Duke or Bill or Charlie. And yet you not only hired him on, you hired him over Duke as head scout. You brought Coop on, and despite the fact that as time goes on these shouting matches you and he have aren't so good for you, you keep him on. Honestly, Chris, if I were you, I wouldn't put up with the high-handed way Coop deals with you, a lot of the I surely wouldn't call night-long shouting matches 'managing' anything. And there's a good reason for everything you do, Chris Hale. And you're going to tell me what the reason is in this case, or I'll know the reason why!''

''Charlie's really not such a bad cook that he'd starve, Katie.'' Chris tried dodging again with his words, while he walked closer to her with each word. '' And, as for your being me, I thank G-d on a daily basis that you're no such thing. And being you're you, Katie, I'd have to guess there's no way you'll settle for 'I have my own reasons.', is there?''

'' Nope.'' Kate almost laughed at his fruitless efforts to avoid and distract her both at once.

'' Then 'it's nothing to do with you or our business relationship, or our friendship, Katie,' won't do the trick for me, either, I suppose?'' Chris guessed, looking down into the crystal blue eyes of his determined, and much loved friend.

'' Not even close. You should really be giving up and giving in by now, my friend.'' Kate grinned. She was going to win this skirmish, hands down.

'' And Coop thinks _**I'm**_ an old New England bulldog as far as being **stubborn**! Clearly the two of you haven't yet had enough 'managing' meetings.'' Chris rolled his eyes heavenwards and sighed, before he brought his bright gaze back to hers. ''Katie, there is an answer, and a good one. But I still have a train to get moving in the morning, however slowly and painfully. So, you're going to have to put your unshakable curiosity on hold, and probably for most of the next few days, anyway, if you don't mind.''

'' For the next few days? No, that won't do.'' Kate shook her silver head and smiled at him

in her most challenging fashion. He was still trying to dodge her questions. And she was more and more convinced that was a bad idea.

''May I have your leave to ask why, Kathleen Elisabeth, _mauvoreen_?'' Chris asked a bit more sharply than he'd intended, because he wasn't sure he wanted her answer.

''Because, Liam Christopher, _mauvoreen_, whatever this 'good answer' may be, it has you looking like a prairie sky full of thunderclouds, just thinking about it. It's troubling you, Chris, and deeply so. And so, I don't think this is something that only came up because I'm naturally curious. No, old friend, this is something that's been troubling you for quite some time. This is something you've not told anyone, which only adds to your troubles, since it's just not in your nature to hold things back. '' Kate answered, ignoring his sarcasm, except as another symptom of how badly troubled Chris was.

''My job calls for doing just that, from time to time.'' Chris answered, recalling more than one instance when he'd had to tread a very solitary, very fine line, with his passengers and his crew, to keep them all alive. ''And you know that, because we've talked about those times, you and I, but afterwards.''

''Yes, yes we did, and on at least one of those occasions I got to hear all about the fact that there almost wasn't any afterwards for you, Chris! Now, are you hinting to me that this is one of those times when you feel obliged to risk your life for the sake of another secret? Because if so, you may as well know right this minute now; I won't tolerate my best friend in the world, putting his life on the line again, that way!''

''No, no, it's nothing like that. I know there's a drought starting up on the high plains and we're going to have to deal with that, when we get further ahead on the trail. But no, Katie, there's nothing remotely resembling that situation involved here. The risk involved now is to a good friend's considerable pride. And, I'm just selfish enough to say, there's the chance I'll wreck that friendship, and pretty well mangle that pride. Surely, you can understand my reluctance to do that?''

'' I do. And I know you're not going to be free of those storm clouds around your head

until you've talked about whatever put them there in the first place. And I know you're about as eager to do that talking as I am to jump the moon. And that tells me, loud and clear, my friend that you need to talk this out, and badly.'' Kate insisted.

'' Read me like a book, do you?'' Hale sighed.

'' Like an open book.'' Kate agreed, still grinning.

'' Then I shouldn't need to tell you anything, should I?'' her best friend suggested.

'' I didn't say you needed to tell me whatever this is. I said you needed to talk about it; get it out of your gut and into the open air, to breathe some life into it, some clarity it can't possibly have while it's chewing away in your gut like that Spartan lad's stolen fox-whelp.'' His best friend went on insisting.

'' That sounds about right. And it's only going to get worse before there's the least chance of it getting better.'' Hale shook his head, wondering how bad that 'worse' was going to be.

'' So, it's Coop you need to talk to; about how it was he started scouting for you?'' Kate guessed.

''Yep.'' Chris rolled his eyes. She really could see clear through him.

''And Coop doesn't know anything about this 'answer' of yours? '' Kate went on guessing.

'' He's never given the least sign or signal, if he does. And the man's just as forthright as you, yourself are, Katie. And there's the core of the problem in a nutshell! I haven't been honest with a man I'm proud to call one of my best friends these days, I haven't been as forthcoming with Coop, as I am with Barney! And all this aside, Katie, I've got a wagon train to run!'' Hale exclaimed, spreading his hands in a gesture almost of surrender.

'' That you do! And I have a freight business to run. But right now, I'm taking time from that business to be some help to a couple of my friends, one old, one new. Because that's how I think a friend should act, whether my friends agree or not.'' Kate argued, grasping Chris hands, doing her best to show she understood, now.

''And there, Katie, is the crux of the problem, exactly there. The trouble is what one person does, what I've done, meaning only to help, only to befriend, Coop won't and likely can't see that way at all.'' Hale sighed, not pulling away, needing her grasp, needing her to keep pushing, keep prodding till he'd got this all said.

''He'll see it as barging in, you mean?'' Kate asked, sighing herself over the dilemma.

''Yes! And he'll see it as giving help where none was asked for. And I can understand that perspective perfectly well, Katie. I had much the same one, at his age. People do things to help a young man, sometimes, just because they see his promise, they see the makings of

the man he'll grow into, as surely as night grows into day. And then, at other times, people

do things for a young man, in part, because they know his potential, because they know how strong a grounding he already has. And the latter was the case with me, knowing about Coop. And Katie, I can hear Coop, now, telling me in no uncertain terms what I can do with what has to seem to him to be outright charity!'' Chris told her.

''Well, it has to seem threatening, if not outright deadly to a young man's pride.'' Kate went on. '' That someone would help them; get them started, because of some close, but hidden past ties.''

''Oh, it doesn't seem that way at all, Katie. It is an outright attack on his pride, his self-reliance, his capabilities, his autonomy; the whole nine yards.'' Hale shook his head, looking away from her bright, earnest, lovely face, to ponder a scenario he'd eluded for something over five years, now.

''Chris, I know you, inside and out. So I know you're telling me the truth now. You never meant hiring Coop on to be anything but a hand up. You certainly never meant him, or his hot-headed pride the least harm!'' Kate insisted, reaching for his handsome, weather-beaten face and turning his wide blue gaze back to meet hers, again.

'' Try telling Coop that!'' Chris shouted, angry with himself.

'' Since you ask so nicely, I will.'' Kate smiled up at him.

'' Sorry, Katie. Well, you've got the gist of it now. But, Coop is my scout and my friend and

so this … revelation I'm going to give him is definitely my job to do, not yours.'' Chris now insisted, wondering, not for the first time how she put up with his Irish temper.

'' Well, that's only one third correct, actually. Chris, Coop is your head scout, certainly, at least until I lure him away from your employment. But he's my friend, too. And on top of all that, I have the distinct feeling that when you finally have this discussion with Coop, you're both going to need me there, if only as a referee.'' Kate chuckled.

'' You're saying that, when you don't know the full extent of the boondoggle I suddenly find myself in, thanks to your obstinate curiosity.'' The Wagonmaster said, shaking his head and claiming his responsibility.

'' Well, yes, yes, I am. But don't worry. You've certainly given me a general idea. And you promised to tell all, come suppertime tomorrow. Also, I'm awfully good at being a referee, Chris. I'm the best negotiator, in fact, west of the Mississippi, when I happen to be west of

the Mississippi, as I am now. So, I'll see you for supper and we'll get the rest of this sorted

out before we talk to Coop.'' The freight-boss answered, not letting him take the whole of it back onto his broad shoulders, not for an instant. ''And what's the matter now, old friend?'' she asked, when Chris' broad shoulders slumped and his thundercloud expression returned.

''Oh, nothing, really, old friend. I've only got to talk to my head scout about the trail ahead, and then make sure he and I both catch a good hour to half an hour's sleep, and then get this whole train back on the trail. And then, I have to sit my friend, Coop Smith down and tell him, after more than five years working together, what influenced me, I suppose is the best way

to put it, to hire him on. And Katie, whatever he does, however Coop reacts, the same exact questions still obtain: What the devil kind of friend does all this make me? And just how blasted selfish does that last question make me sound, even to you?'' Chris asked her, shaking his head at the prospect of that 'sitting Coop down.'

'' Not at all, not selfish at all, Chris. You sound like a man on the horns of a genuine dilemma, Chris. But it's not one that can't be resolved. But, since we're talking about honesty, Chris.

I don't see how I can help very much, without your telling me what it is you haven't told our friend Coop.'' Kate insisted, reaching up for Chris' weathered, handsome face, to bring his gaze back to her own. Chris' wide blue eyes were so saddened, now that Kate knew she'd brought up some memory that still anguished him. And as long as that was the case, as long as that memory was hurting her best friend in the world; she wasn't about to stop asking

him to at least divide the hurt with her. He'd do, and he had done no less for her, more than once, in their long acquaintance.

'' Oh really? Fine, what do you 'see'?'' Chris asked, looking at his best friend in the world, feeling as if she could read his every thought, wishing he could allow anyone but himself the task at hand.

'' A man who's wearing himself down with worry, about something he knows he finally has to do. A man who's chewing on something that's tougher than the leather in my crop and harder for him to put into words than 'I love you.' But we got you past that hurdle, Chris; we can surely get you past this one.'' Kate answered, letting her own tone lighten a bit, as she reminded him of some of their past troubles.

'' Katie this isn't anything you need to come in on.'' Chris argued, trying to take back his serious, wholly responsible tone and manner.

'' I disagree.'' Kate maintained, just as seriously.

'' Of course you do. '' the Wagonmaster almost laughed, now. She wouldn't be Kate Crawley

if she gave in now, after giving him nearly an hour's 'talking to'.

''And now you're going to stop interrupting me, Chris Hale, so that I can tell you why.'' Kate demanded, raising one silver eyebrow.

'' Why you disagree with me? Because that's just your nature, Katie Crawley'' Hale couldn't help but chuckle, until he noticed her expression grow serious.

'' Are you going to stand there and cast idle insults, or are you going to listen, now?'' Kate demanded.

''Katie…'' Chris began and then seeing her determination, stopped.

''That's better.'' Kate grinned and went on. Now, you said your reason for taking Coop on was your knowing his potential, his grounding. And what that tells me without your saying another word, Chris, is that you knew his family, in east Texas, wasn't it? And on a guess, I'm going to say it's more likely you knew Coop's father, rather than his mother. Or maybe you knew them both. Was she very lovely, as a young girl, a young woman, Liam Christopher?''

''Elisabeth Micaela Cooper was one of the loveliest women I was ever fortunate enough to know. She had deep-set blue eyes, a freckled, oval face, and brilliant, curly chestnut hair, too. But unfortunately, our first meeting only happened about two months after she'd become betrothed, in the old fashioned sense that meant, engaged to be engaged, to Danny Smith. And Beth was as indomitable as she was bright, and she'd set her cap for Danny years before then. Is that all you wanted to know about her, Katie _mauvoreen_? '' Chris asked, seeing both his long time friends. Beth and Danny Smith, vividly in memory.

''No, no. There's a lot more I'd like to know about your past amours and flings and such,

old friend. But for now we'll stick to the subject of Cooper's family. And there's one mystery solved, right there. He was given his mother's maiden name. And you went to school with his father, a boy from east Texas?''

''Coop was named for Beth's father, in fact. And Danny and I both went to a boarding school in Alexandria, the year I was twelve, so that would have made Danny, eleven, maybe eleven and a half. And I would have flunked out from sheer homesickness the first year I was there, if not for him; a boy from east Texas who wanted very much to make friends with a boy from east Massachusetts! Maybe he was just as homesick. Or maybe he just wanted to hear about places he'd never been to. But Danny worked doggedly to make himself my friend that year.'' Chris sighed, remembering the time. '' And he just as resolutely remained my friend, despite the troubles that could and did cause him, in those times, until the day he died, in September of 1860. ''

'' Then that would be where Coop gets his own keen sense of fairness.'' Kate nodded.

''Tell me more about this Danny Smith, please, Chris.''

'' I'm never going to be anything but glad to talk about Danny Smith, Katie. He was tall,

as tall as Duke. But Danny always looked as if he hadn't eaten in the last month, at least!

I mean to say Danny had such long limbs, and such a wiry frame you couldn't tell at first glance, how he didn't fall over in a high wind, like an out-of-balance windmill. We used to

say the word gangling must have been invented to describe Danny. His parents named him Daniel Webster Smith, and Danny wasn't altogether pleased by that, as I recall. He said it

got him hauled into far too many debates.

He was a sort of a sandy-red-head as a boy, when he was growing so fast all the time his

eyes often looked too big for his face. And his eyes, those wide, wise grey-blue eyes, Katie, Danny Smith, could see right through any kind of fraud or cheat, or boasting or faulty logic another boy might try. And that included yours truly, from time to time. Beth told me she truly believed Danny possessed what some folks call 'an old soul'; and I believe it too. He

had such clarity of …every kind of vision, and such compassion for what he called 'the

blamed foolishness of the whole, entire world'.''

''And Beth?'' Kate asked, laying one hand lightly on Chris' right arm, when he went quiet again.

''Beth became my good friend too, partly I think because she was curious as all get out,

and wanted to know what Danny saw in this dour New Englander. ''Chris answered, laying

his hand over Kate's as if to keep it there indefinitely. '' And she had a black Irish temper

of her own, did Beth. And she had, as I already told you, an insatiable curiosity that had her reading every book and journal she could find or get sent to her in east Texas. And I sent her not a few, myself. '' Chris answered, sighing again.

'' Beth Cooper Smith also had a natural-born gift for healing, that brought her nearly every sick or hurt child, every expectant mother, and every ailing complainer in Nacogdoches county, soon, or late! Beth lived her whole life in what had been her father's home, on the crest of a hill outside the town, there. And she kept that rambling old house, for her father when he was widowed young, for her husband and sons, later on. And she kept it full of people and books and ideas and parties and life.

And when her younger son, Jefferson, didn't come from the War, Beth Smith went on trying with all she had, to ease and care for and comfort the boys who did, and the other families, the other women in those parts who'd lost their sons, too. But Jefferson's death almost literally broke Beth's heart. She began to fail, visibly, month to month, and day to day. Beth died seven and a half years after Danny passed away. She couldn't heal herself, you see.

I almost introduced myself to Coop, after his mother's services. But I thought it best to let him be, just then. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have befriended Coop, forthrightly then, when he'd lost them both, **and** young Jeff. Katie, I just don't know!'' Chris exclaimed, and let his long time friend pull him into an embrace.

'' Maybes aren't of any use, in a case like that, like this, my dear, my very dear.'' Kate murmured, and kissed him very gently. '' For good or ill, we can't change the past. You are Coop's friend, now. And he may not think you have miraculous abilities, the way Barnaby

and Charlie do. But he admires you, Chris, tremendously.''

'' For the time being, Katie _mauvoreen,_ and only for the time being. What can Coop think about my keeping this secret, except that I didn't want to acknowledge my friendship with

his parents, that I decided I wasn't glad and proud to be their friend, after all? What would anyone think, except that I decided to keep to myself what fine, principled, loving parents

he and Jeff had; and how proud I know they were of their sons? What reasons could I possibly give Coop for not telling him that?''

''You already know the answer to that, Chris. You were trying to be as fair as Coop would expect, as he'd demand, and as chary of his pride. That can be all a man has, all a woman has, for that matter in this world. But, I think if you approach this, if you approach Coop in

the right way, now; he will understand all this, and in just those terms. Unless there's yet something more to this story, old friend.'' Kate studied Chris' face intently now, and he sighed and nodded.

'' Just one more piece, Katie, really. And maybe it's the only aspect of all this Coop might accept as part of my reason for hiring him on. Danny and Beth were extraordinary people,

as I said. And in the course of our friendship, they did a number of remarkable things for me. And they made what some people would call unusual requests, which I was always glad to honor. In this case, they asked me to stand up for Coop when he was christened, along with Beth's cousin, Jessy Singer. And of course, I did.'' Chris told her, feeling about a thousand pound weight lifting off his shoulders.

''But that's it, Chris! You've hit the nail right on the head!'' Kate grinned at him, bright as day. ''Coop may not be the most religious young man we know. But he certainly doesn't despise such things, the way other young men seem to do, who were in the War.''

'' Katie, I hope you're right about that point.'' Hale nodded, then he looked across the camp and frowned. ''Now, no more of this, for the time being, mauvoreen. I just saw Coop charging across the circle-up, now, as if it were a battlefield his First Texans were ordered to take!''


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

''Well, hello, Cooper.'' Kate said, standing and holding out her hand, when Coop reached

them. '' I'm glad to see you made it back. Chris said you took the point quite a long ride ahead. How are you? How's the trail between here and South Pass looking?''

'' Hullo, Miss Kate.'' Coop answered, shaking Kate's hand, all the while hoping Chris didn't notice his startled reaction at finding Kate here. '' I - I pretty much took the point about as

far as I could in just a fortnight, or so. I'm fine. Figure Th' Platte and Th' Pass are still there, alright. Tribes in that part of the country seemed to be in a quiet mood, for once, I'm glad

to say.''

'' And we're glad to hear it.'' Kate nodded.

[ We're glad to hear it? ] Coop echoed to himself. [ What's she mean by that? ]

''Well, c'mon and get yourself some coffee! Sit down and take it easy, Cooper. We're just glad you didn't run into any particular trouble.''

[ There she goes with that 'we're glad' again! What Th' devil's goin on here? ] the scout wondered. He knew as well as anyone that Chris and Kate were close, longtime friends. But sometimes the freight-line boss still surprised him. Mostly that seemed to come when she was full of her trademark genially challenging manner

''No more than I am, I figure.'' Coop said, taking her suggestion and a cup of coffee, feeling decidedly awkward. [ Mind your temper, Coop. You were never taught to talk back to a lady. B'sides, Chris will have your guts for garters if you don't treat Kate the way he thinks is right. At least she can make coffee without burnin' it to a cinder. Mebbee that's why Charlie still doesn't cotton to her, that much. ]

'' Katie's taking a freight run up the trail ahead of us, Coop.'' Chris told his chief scout, sitting down again. ''So she wanted to hear your report as much I did.''

[ Alright, that explains, the 'we're glad' part, anyway. ] Coop decided, taking the bench across the watch-fire from Chris, as Kate stayed at the Wagonmaster's side.

'' Guess you'd already know you might have to watch for some of the younger Shoshone braves tryin' to raid your freight wagons, further along, on the way down trail from Fort Hall.''

'' Yes, we pretty much have to expect that. And I'd far rather they 'count coup' that way,

then the way their grandfathers might have done. I can afford to lose a few supplies off my wagons a lot more easily than a few scalps off my drivers. But what do you think, Chris?

Maybe I should hire this head scout of yours away from you, to keep **my** wagons safe? Cooper's smart. He knows the Trail and the off-Trail country like the back of his hand. He's tough and he's quicker with a repeating rifle than any wagon-boss I've ever had or known. '' Kate laughed, watching each man in turn for his reaction.

'' Sorry, Miss Kate, thanks. But 'm not interested in another job, just now.'' Coop shook his head, shifting his weight from leg to the other as she assessed him. '' I kinda like to finish one job at a time, make sure it's done, and done right; before I think about movin' on.''

''Katie can likely pay you more than I can.'' Hale suggested, folding his arms, refusing to give Kate the response she wanted, right now.

'' He's likely right about that, Cooper. Although I really shouldn't say so, when we're just starting to negotiate.'' Kate grinned.

[Why does she always call me 'Cooper' as if I was still in short pants? ] Coop wondered unhappy with the whole conversation, again. '' Sorry again, Miss Kate. I have a contract with Chris, and I don't break my word.'' Coop answered, as firmly as his upbringing allowed him to be with any woman, much less one who was his elder and his best friend's 'very good friend', besides.

'' I could have told you Coop would say just that, Katie.'' Chris said.

'' Could have and did.'' Kate answered, still having a bit of fun at the awkwardness she sensed from the scout.

'' Reckon that just means Chris knows me too danged well, by now.'' Coop said, shaking his dark head ruefully. ''Sorry to turn you down, Miss Kate.''

'' Oh, don't be, Cooper. A man's word should be something his friends can absolutely rely on, after all.'' Kate answered him, smiling as if they'd just been discussing the weather; not whether or not he'd stay with the train.

'' Yeah, that's what I've always thought, myself. Chris, if you're ready now, I thought you'd want to hear first about the trail between Kearny and the North Platte; and then what I saw further ahead, between there and South Pass.'' Coop said, shifting his weight on the bench and his focus to the Wagonmaster.

'' That'll do for a start.'' Chris agreed. But he knew Kate wasn't done with her tactics, yet, she still stood next to his chair, frowning at him, now.

'' Wait, please, Cooper. Chris, you look exhausted. And we both know Cooper must be just as tired!'' Kate protested, holding one hand out, all done with playing, truly concerned for her old friend, and his young friend, as well.

''Chris, if you're wantin' to hit the hay, that's fine with me. We can go over this after we get underway again, tomorrow. I'd have told you before this if I found any real trouble ahead.'' Coop offered, seeing his friend blinking and stifling a yawn.

''No, I'd like to hear at least a summary report now, Coop; so I can try to think on my feet when we do get back on the Trail.'' Hale insisted, scowling first at the scout, then at Kate.

''Sure, Chris.'' The scout nodded and after a quick glance meant to include Kate in their talk, went right into reporting conditions on the trail ahead. They might find some few creeks lower than usual, as a drought seemed to be gathering force through western Nebraska and up into Wyoming Territory this year. They might find some of the older settlements along the trail emptying out, these days, following the lure of land along the newer steam-engine train routes.

But the prairies themselves in the last forty years or so, wouldn't ever have changed; if not for the influx of homesteaders that picked up again, after the war. And some of Hale's passengers would be leaving the train as they got further into the Nebraska and Wyoming territories; to join that immense new movement of people settling the plains. They'd put down roots, work the land, and change it yet more, with their fences and rare, rough hewn wood cabins or sod houses dotting the plains. Those travelers and their companions were lucky this year; the trouble between settlers and Indians was up in the Dakotas, now.

'' They're headed for terrible trouble up there, from what I hear, as well.'' Kate agreed, when Coop gave that as the last part of his brief report. ''Thank you, Cooper. That was very helpful, and very succinct.''

''Umm, Miss Kate?'' the Texan asked, taking on a more formal tone and usage.

'' Yes. Cooper, what is it?'' Kate asked, turning to bestow a bright, wide smile on him.

'' D' you figure you could just call me 'Coop'? Hearin' 'Cooper' so much makes me think I'm in Dutch with my great aunt Meg, again, for makin off with another one of her peach cobblers. ''

'' Were they worth the trouble, Coop?'' Kate asked, wondering what more she didn't' know about the scout.

'' All of that and more.'' Coop nodded, with a sad smile at the memory.

'' I'll try to remember, unless of course you are in Dutch with me, fair enough?''

''Fair enough.'' Coop said, and stood up, ready to leave.

''Oh, and… Coop?'' Kate almost hated to stop him, seeing he was bone weary. ''Nobody calls me 'Miss Kate', these days except for Charlie; who's too old and set in his ways to change, and Barnaby, who's still learning the ropes. Please, call me Kate, won't you?''

'' Uh, surely, Kate.'' Coop agreed, wondering why, now, she seemed all business again, without a sign of gamesmanship in her manner. The scout turned back to Hale, and found

the Wagonmaster frowning in an uneasy fashion that Coop couldn't help worrying about, himself, and not one to hold off, he asked. ''What's the matter, Chris?''

'' Why? Does something have to be the matter for us to talk?'' Hale asked, more sharply

than he'd wanted to.

'' Well, no, there doesn't have to be, I guess. So, what's goin' on?'' Coop asked in turn.

''Chris was trying to answer a question I brought up, Coop.'' Kate said, as the Wagonmaster glared at her and then started to pace the width and length of the space beside his wagon. ''And in doing that, he seems to have come to the conclusion that you should hear that answer, too.''

''Well, what is it, then? What's the question and what's this answer?'' Coop asked Kate, as Chris went on pacing, muttering to himself .

'' Well, I've known Chris for some time; and now I've known you, Coop, for about five years and a little more. And it's occurred to me more than once to ask how two men as different as you and Chris came to work together, and came to be such friends.''

'' Couldn't say, myself. Of course I am real easy goin'; don't get drunk more n' twice or

three times a season, don't cheat at cards, not much, anymore these days, don't generally

go chasin' skirts, don't flirt with other fellow's ladies. And I'm the best scout in five territories and ten states around. Figure that's the real answer, right, Chris?'' Coop laughed.

'' You had me, Coop, right down to that last. '' Chris stopped pacing, and shook his head, finally managing a smile. '' Right down to that last.''

'' Well, 'figure it could be twelve or thirteen states, by this time.'' Coop offered, still wondering what the devil was going on with these two old friends tonight.

'' And how many territories?'' Kate asked, smiling herself

''How many y' got?'' Coop laughed, wondering why Chris wasn't joining in the fun as he usually would when the day's business was over.

'' Coop,'' Kate started, and then changed her mind so vividly Coop could read it in her face. '' This really is none of my business. I'm afraid I'm turning into almost as much of a busybody these days as Charlie Wooster!''

'' Nope, not possible. Charlie's got that title pegged down good and proper.'' Coop laughed.

'' In any case, I should go. Will you gentlemen please excuse me? I promised my current ramrod I'd check in with him before lights out.'' Kate nodded to them each and turned on

her heel, and left.

''Katie!'' Chris called after her; but she was already striding away, on the double-quick.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

'' Well, do I get to know whatever this is that's none of Kate's business, sometime tonight, Chris?'' Coop asked his boss, as Hale recommenced his pacing.

'' Yes, yes, I suppose you do. I suppose you really should know this. ''Hale stopped, and sighed. ''Coop, did it never occur to you to wonder how I chose you for head scout?''

'' Did it? Nope, guess not. But now you're gonna tell me the part that's not covered by my lack of any genuine vices, except for my black-Irish/Welsh temper? And then there's the work I did for other trains, other people, right?'' Coop asked.

'' Mister Chris! Mister Chris!'' Charlie Wooster's high, carrying voice broke in to their talk just as the old cook rushed up to the Wagonmaster, shaking, almost out of breath, his dark eyes wide, his face grim.

'' Charlie, sit down here, and calm down.'' Hale ordered. '' I want to know what's wrong. But

I don't want you collapsing on me. Take a couple deep breaths. Coop, you know where I keep what Charlie needs some of right now.''

''Yes, sir.'' Both men answered, as Charlie took Chris' chair by the watch-fire, and Coop walked around the back of Hale's wagon to get a bottle of brandy kept within. Only when Charlie had sipped some of the liqueur, and thereby got some color back in his face, did the Wagonmaster and the scout stop exchanging worried looks.

''Alright, Charlie.'' Coop encouraged the older man. '' Just tell us what happened. It can't be that bad, can it? Or else we'd have Barney and Bill both chasing over here, right after you.''

''They're still down by th' picket line.'' Charlie answered, almost moaning. ''They're still down there with th' girl. I told 'em at least one of 'em had best stay with her, there. Oh, th' poor little girl!''

''Who, Charlie?'' Chris asked.

''What girl?'' Coop joined in.

'' Didn't I already say, Mister Chris?'' the cook asked.

''No, Charlie. So start over, please, old friend. Has someone been hurt? Is someone ill?'' Chris questioned, more worried now, seeing how disturbed the older man was.

'' Nope, ain't nobody hurtin', not anymore.'' Charlie sighed, his dark eyes immensely sad. ''Ain't nobody sick, either. It's little Lissa Burke, Mister Chris. It's her. She's gone. She's lyin' down there, with only my old ratty quilt to give her some decent coverin', is all. I found her down there, y'see? Only she was already gone, Mister Chris. She was already gone! An' I don't hardly… Mister Chris, I can't hardly bring m'self to tell you. She … Th' poor sorrowful creature, th' poor little thing; Mister Chris, I think she done herself in.'' Charlie finished; his last words almost a murmur.

Coop heard himself gasp, and looking over, saw Chris bending his head as though in prayer. The scout's thoughts weren't exactly winging heavenward, right now, though. He was too shocked; imagining the slight, strawberry blonde young woman he'd only had a nodding acquaintance with, at best, lying dead.

And he was more concerned with these two very good friends, in all honesty, than a girl no one could help, now.

''Charlie, that was fine, giving her your quilt, that way.'' Coop told the cook. '' Didn't you tell me your sister made it?''

'' Nan.'' Charlie nodded, managing only the one word.

''And Bill's stayin' down there, now?'' the scout went on. It seemed as though Chris needed somebody else to ask these questions, while he gathered his own thoughts. ''And Barney, too? How's Barney takin' this, Charlie?''

''Oh, Barney's bein' a real trooper, Coop. You'd never know by a look or a word he wasn't a man grown just about now. He told me he'd go and talk to Missus Burke, as he's been drivin' for her and … th' girl. But I, I told him no. Reckon I was right to tell him no, Coop?''

'' You were absolutely right, Charlie.'' Chris answered, speaking with quiet certainty and reassurance, before Coop could. '' That kind of thing isn't Barney's to do. It's mine. And as soon as I've seen… Lissa, I'll go on over to her mother's wagon, myself. Mrs. Burke will want to know everything I can possibly tell her.''

'' I'll go look up that young minister who came onto the train not long before I rode out, Chris. '' Coop said. '' He didn't seem the type to make too harsh a judgment, in a case like this.''

''You're right, Coop.'' Hale said. ''I've had a chance to talk with him, once or twice. Parry's his name. Rhys Parry. He's just emigrated here from Cardiff, in Wales. Tell him why he's needed, and where, which is at Mrs. Burke's wagon. And Coop, when you've got that done, go and get Barney, take him for a long walk, a ride, anything to help him with the severe reaction he's bound to have, and sooner rather than late. We'll have to get back to our talk, another time.''

''Sure, Chris.'' Coop nodded and strode off through the camp, shaking his head and sighing over the shock and sorrow of a hapless young mother's poignant end.

''Charlie,'' Chris went on. I want you to stay put right here, until I can make sure you've got your land-legs back, again. You hear? Take another dram of brandy, if need be. But leave me some, I think I'm going to need it myself, before this night's over.''

''Yes, Mister Chris. And 'm sorry, real sorry to bring you this kinda news, Mister Chris.'' Charlie shook his head.

'' Don't worry, Charlie. I've hardly ever been known to shoot the messenger.'' Chris said, and left the old cook looking after him, in no little confusion.

After bringing the young minister the terrible news, and relaying Chris' request, Coop strode

at the double quick down to the train's picket line. The scout was worried about Charlie, sitting alone at Chris' wagon now; the older man seemed as badly shaken as Coop had ever seen him. And then there was Barney, who'd already had far too many experiences with death and grieving. At the far end of the line, Coop found Bill, pacing with the youngster, keeping one strong arm around Barney's shoulders.

''Hey, Bill, Barney.'' Coop greeted them, glancing only once at the absolutely still form concealed by Charlie's old quilt. '' Chris will likely be here any minute. He may have changed his mind and gone to see Missus Burke, first, though.''

At the mention of Lissa's mother, Barney looked up at Coop. The youngster was pale as milk, and badly shaken, his wide grey eyes shining with tears Coop knew Barney didn't want anyone to notice. '' She's gonna be awfully torn up about … this! And comin' so soon after th' accident with Willy! What's she gonna do, Coop? What's she gonna do, Bill?''

'' She's going to have it really rough for a while, Barney.'' Bill answered, turning Barney around to face him. '' There's just no way around that. But we're all going to do all we possibly can, to help her. So will the folks on the train. She's made a lot of friends, helping other folks with their sick babies, and all. And folks remember that sort of thing, and want

to do the same for someone as just plain kind as Amanda Burke.''

'' Reckon Bill's right about that, Barney. That's pretty much how folks get through the hardest times; with the help of people they've helped themselves. Anyway, that's a big part of it. Don't you think so?'' Coop asked, trying to reassure the boy.

''Mebbee.'' Barney nodded. '' It's just, Missus Burke, she was doin' really well, seemed to

me, when I did some drivin' for her last week, and … '' the youngster's eyes trailed reluctantly towards the quilt and what it hid from sight. '' Missus Burke, she only looked back, once or twice, then kept on lookin' forward, talkin' to me, some. But mostly she was talkin' to Lissa,

of course. I thought they were both doin' really well. Figure I was wrong, there. Must've been awfully hard, leavin' little Willy behind, an' all. Reckon it was harder on Lissa, than I thought. ''

'' Barney,'' Coop said, taking his turn to bring the boy's gaze back to him. '' you're right. I don't think there could be anything harder, than to lose a child. I know the very idea scares me silly, just to tryin' to get it into my head. The funny thing is, women are so danged much stronger than fellas, that way. They get through troubles that'd make most fellas take off runnin'. We've all seen that happen, every year, on the way across country, haven't we?

And what else I know is you were a big help to Lissa and her mother. Not just taking the driving off their hands, Barney, but because you know the way they were hurting, because you lost your family, too. You could sympathize, you see? And that's all you can do, sometimes, but it's can mean a lot. And what else you know, Barney, is that time's

the only other thing can help folks, in a case like this, don't you?''

'' Yeah, Coop. Sure. But now, I won't know what to say to Lissa's mother. I can't think what I'd say to her. Not a bit.'' Barney shook his head, scuffing the toe of his left boot in the dirt, and studying the process intently, as if to make sure he transferred just the right amount.

''Mebbee she won't need you to say much of anything, right away, Barney.'' The scout answered, somberly. '' Mebbee it will turn out the best thing you can do for Missus Burke is only to be someone who knows certain sure how Lissa loved her, because you saw it, day after day. And mebbee she'll find it more comfortable to have you come back and drive for her, since you've already done that, and got used to her team and to her ways. That way,

did she come around to wanting to talk, you'd be there sort of ready-made, all the corners already worn down, and all. And doing that for her, will help you, too. At least, you'll build up your calluses for when you might drive for Chris or Charlie, up the trail a bit.''

''Do you think Mister Chris would really let me drive for him?'' Barney asked, with half a grin, before he realized he shouldn't be smiling, right now.

'' Well, you know, Chris likes to drive his wagon sometimes, just to get out of the saddle for

a while, Barney.'' Bill, said, nodding his appreciation to Coop for helping the lad. '' But what

I think is, he's likely to be real impressed if he sees you handling the pack of wild cayuses Charlie's got this year. So that would be the next step, I'd say. Wouldn't you, Coop?''

'' Absolutely. And Charlie doesn't mind a bit, most times, letting someone drive the cook wagon. He says it gives him time to think. I think it gives him time to nap!'' Coop grinned and winked at Barney.

Barney nodded and chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip awhile. '' Charlie really looked awful, when he came to get Bill, before. I think he was plumb shocked, or he wouldn't have let me come on down here, to wait with … Lissa. Is he alright, now?''

'' He will be, Barney. That's real fine of you to worry about him. Mebbee we should send Bill

on over to Chris' wagon, now; just to make sure Charlie hasn't sipped up all of Chris' brandy, though. And you and me, we'll go for a tramp, or a ride? What d'you think?'' Coop asked sparing a glance at the ramrod, who nodded and turned to leave.

'' I don't think so; Coop. Not right now. Charlie said it would be really, really wrong to

just leave, to just leave Lissa here. '' Barney said, swallowing and looking anxious again.

'' That's very thoughtful, and very kind of you, Barnaby.'' A tall, rangy, dark haired young man, carrying a lantern and a Bible, said, walking towards the trio of friends. ''But I've come over to keep vigil with her, now. '' This was Rhys Parry, the newest passenger on the Hale train. The minister nodded to Coop and Bill, but kept his wide dark eyes and his attention focused on Barney, now, placing one long hand on the youngster's shoulder.

'' I left Mr Hale with Melissa's mother, just now. And I told both of them, I'd wait here,

while whatever is needful is being arranged. I came to do what is all that can be done for

the child, now, which is to pray. And of course, you're welcome to stay and join me in that. But it strikes me you've done your part and more this evening, Barnaby. And tomorrow

will be quite trying for us all, I'm afraid. Best you go on back with your friends, I'd say.''

'' Oh, uh, alright, Reverend.'' Barney nodded. ''Reckon Lissa… don't know if we're here, or we're not, not anymore.''

''But that's where I would strongly disagree, my young friend.'' Parry said, his voice and tone so kind, not even a teenaged boy could take his words as a reproof. '' I believe she surely knows, better than ever, now, how fine and compassionate a heart you truly have.''

Barney excitedly studied the minister's sharp features for a moment; and then seemed to lose an argument with himself, blurting out. '' You don't think she's lost, then, Reverend? You truly don't?''

'' No, I truly don't think that could be so, Barnaby. I believe in fact that Melissa is safe, free and well, and whole again. Of course, I'm Methodist, you see; and so I have no great stock built up in the notion of Purgatory.''

''But you're a preacher!'' Barney went on, too worn out by this time, to pick and choose his words. '' You've just got to believe in heaven and hell! And all the other preachers I ever heard said it was a damning thing, a just plain damning thing… what Lissa done.''

Now both Coop and Bill opened their mouths, ready to remonstrate with the boy. But Parry shook his head, and once more fixed his gaze on Barney's. '' First of all, Barnaby, we don't know for certain what transpired out here, before Charles found our poor Melissa. And that being the case, it would be doubly wrong of me as a presumed example of good mores, to judge her prematurely. So I won't. And I know you haven't done, and won't do that, either, Barnaby. As I said, you've got much too good a heart for that. That being said, yes, I do believe with all my heart in Heaven. My faith, the faith I'm oath-bound to propagate, has

'the resurrection and the life' as its founding principle, after all.''

''Barney, '' Bill stepped in, literally between the boy and the minister. '' Don't you think you should calm down here a minute, and then apologize to the Reverend for talking to him, that way?''

'' 'm sorry, Reverend Parry. I shouldn't have hollered at you, like that.'' Barney said, hanging his head again, before looking up into the minister's earnest face.

'' Never mind, Barnaby, these are extremely unusual and trying circumstances.'' Parry said. ''And what I'd like to add, in trying to answer your very natural question is this: Melissa's spirit has, I believe, flown straight to Heaven, to rejoin her tiny son waiting for her, there.

And I believe that because my faith, and my own life's experience to date has shown me

there surely is a loving, compassionate, and eternally forgiving G-d in His Heaven, waiting

to take each of us into His mighty arms and welcome us Home again, someday.

Otherwise, we'd all be lost, and long since! We're all of us only human beings, Barnaby. We're weak and flawed, and we constantly struggle to find and do the right, as best we can. And we can fail miserably at that endeavor which He knows, having shaped our very souls, as surely as He did our bodies. And as you said, some people, in religion and otherwise believe the greatest failure of the human spirit, is despair, which they see as giving up on G-d.

And I disagree, which I'm certain some people and some churches would consider heretical

on my part. Because I believe, the Lord our G-d never made us with the idea that we would live our earthly lives in some improbable state of perfection. No, he made us complex, complicated, and confusing, even to ourselves, sometimes. He made us that way so we might learn and grow towards Him and the spark from His eternal spirit he placed in each human soul. And as He created us, so He loves us, even when we fall, even when we grope in the darkness, even when we know despair. And we all come to know that painful state, that lost and wandering emptiness at some point in our lives; because the human spirit is also meant by it's Source and it's Creator to explore all the farthest and all the inmost reaches of itself.

And so to me, the real tragedy and ignominy of human despair isn't to be found in the individual person who finds himself trapped in that morass. No, it's the rest of us who share the world with him, or her, and take such little notice of their suffering. G-d said man was not meant to live alone, didn't He? That means, in the broader sense, that we're all needed

by and in need of others. So, when we see a tormented soul, which young Melissa, even in our brief acquaintance surely seemed to be; the shame and the sorrow is what we don't do for her, not what she does.

She was struggling at a very young age, with burdens that can and do overwhelm the wisest, and strongest amongst us. I suppose some would even say Melissa should be in Heaven now, because she already knew hell on earth. And not having the capacity to understand G-d's judgments, I can only admit that may be true, as well. But what I did learn about Melissa,

in as I say, a short time, was that despite her sorrows, she retained the ability to love, tremendously. And that is why I believe, she is not condemned but redeemed, at this

very moment, now. So, Barnaby, do you think you can understand that?''

''Yeah. Yeah. I think I do.'' Barney said, sounding surprised.

''Well, I'm glad then. Now, go on with your friends; and I'll be glad to talk with you about this, again tomorrow, or at any other time, alright?''

'' Yeah. Yeah. I'd like that.'' Barney nodded, and only then looked to Bill and Coop for what he should be doing now.

''Let's go for that ride we talked about, now, Barney.'' Coop encouraged the youngster. ''C'mon, now. It'll likely do you a world of good.''

''Okay. See you after a bit, then, Bill.'' Barney said, looking to the ramrod for his okay.

''See you, Barney.'' Hawks nodded, with a taut smile that spoke eloquently of his pride in the youngster's, for the most part, managing the situation so well.

In another few minutes Coop was astride Gambler, with Barney beside him, on the blue roan gelding the crew had gone together with Chris to buy him at the end of last year's journey. Barney named the handsome two year old Wanderer. And the name seemed all the more appropriate, as Barney worked every spare quarter of an hour that fall and winter, to teach him to stay put.

They rode a quarter mile away from the circle-up, at a good pace, without a word spoken between the scout and the youngster, before stopping. The night air was crisp and, even

this close to the camp, free of its smoke and noise. A handful of stars were showing in the spring sky, and Coop thought if he tried, he'd recall the constellation's names. Orion, with

his hounds, was one, certain sure.

And that meant Ursa Major and Minor couldn't be too far.[ So, should I try giving Barney an astronomy lesson; or just let him sit and get his thoughts to stop whirring around in his head after all this? ] Coop wondered. Barney answered that question by pulling something out of the haversack slung on behind Wanderer's saddle.

''Coop, I'm sorry. I forgot to give this back to you, when I found it in your old haversack,

th' other night.'' The youngster said, holding out a worn, leather bound pocket-journal.

'' I didn't look in it a bit, promise I didn't.''

''Don't worry about that, Barney.'' Coop smiled at him, taking the dog-eared book and turning it over in his hands. '' There's nothin' secret in here. In fact, seems like I plumb forgot it was still down in my old 'sack. Haven't even looked in it myself, in a long while.''

''What's it for, then?'' Barney asked, looking as if he'd be glad for a change of subject from tonight's events.

'' Letters.'' The scout answered, glancing through the journal pages.

'' Letters? You wrote letters in there and then tore 'em out to post?''

''No, Barney. It's something a lot of fellows did, in the War, a habit the boys got into, when we couldn't get anywhere we could post our letters home. And that was especially true when the First was up in Virginia, or down in Georgia or out in Tennessee with the Texas Brigade. There was no way to send letters to, or get any from home back in east Texas. We'd write 'em down, and wait for a time they could get sent, you see?''

'' So you'd write the letters you wanted to send home?'' Barney asked.

'' That's the idea. Figure some of the fellows will end up writin' their memoirs from this kind

of thing. Not me, though. I just haven't wanted to get rid of this, yet. '' Coop nodded, wondering why he wasn't able to tell Barney that this journal had been a gift from Coop's late father, years before the War. Now, the binding was cracked in places, and the leather frayed at the corners. And the scout knew he'd never want to be 'rid' of it, or the times and people

it brought back to him.

'' Well, then, Coop, when you got home to Nacad… Naga…''

' Nacogdoches.'' Coop finished the Old Mexican town-name for him. '' Did I show this to anybody there? Is that what you wanted to ask? Just my momma But I could never tell if it made her sad or not. She wouldn't let on about that kind of thing a bit. Thanks for findin' this, Barney, it's a good thing to have some memories writ down, sometimes, even the ones you'd rather lose. We can't change the past, though, for good or ill, ever. And the past's already changed us, anyway. That's what momma used to say.''

''Reckon you miss her a lot, don't you, Coop?'' Barney asked, sounding skittish again, reluctant to broach the subject.

'' Reckon I do, Barney. But it's funny, in a way. It's like an ache I'm glad to have, to keep

me from forgettin' her. As if I ever, ever could. She was somethin' else, tall and slim and bright eyed, with a voice like a hearth fire, low and ardent, and full of light. And we all thought she was gonna live for just about … ever.''

'' Wow. Wow, I guess I never thought about missin' somebody like that before.'' Barney said and looked down at Wanderer's mane, somber again.

'' Barney, you don't have to talk about your folks with me, ever, if you don't want. '' Coop assured the youngster, looking at him, eye to eye. '' But if you want, you can, anytime. Just, what happened tonight, likely brought how you feel about them being gone, back to you, didn't it?''

'' Kinda, mebbee.'' Barney answered, shaking his head, his wide eyes sad again. ''Guess I never knew anybody that got so sad they'd want to die, though. And mebbee she wouldn't have, if somebody had only talked with her, more. I dunno, though. She'd hardly say a word, when I was drivin' for them. Guess she wasn't really doin' so very well. Guess I was wrong about that. She'd sit back in the wagon, Coop, and I think she was holdin' a toy of Willy's sometimes, or his picture. Do you, Coop, do you think somebody might've stopped her?''

''We can't know that, Barney. Nobody can.'' Coop insisted, grasping Barney's arm. ''And you'll hear the dumbest and the smartest people in the world tell you that same, exact thing. Because it's not given us to know. And I tend to think it could make a fellow crazed, trying. And I know it can make a fellow mad as hell. Because there's just no understanding this

kind of trouble, when a young girl dies; anymore than there is for why some folks live so long, despite all their woes.''

''You mean like Charlie?'' Barney asked, with the ghost of his usual wide grin tugging at his mouth.

''No, Barney, I meant you!'' Coop chuckled, glad to see that grin. '' You're gonna be two hundred and fourteen, come your birthday, aren't you, youngster?''

'' Two hundred and fifteen, you young whippersnapper!'' Barney smiled, giving a kind of mixed interpretation of Charlie Wooster and Chris Hale both. Then he turned Wanderer back towards the train. ''So you'd best commence to bein' more respectful-like around me! D'ye hear?''

'' Oh, yes, sir, Mister Barnaby, sir!'' the scout nodded, giving Gambler a nudge in that direction. ''Whatever you say, sir!''

'' Well, now, just look at the time! It's way past your bedtime, you young ne'er-do-well! You go on, now, and get a move on back to the circle up, and on the double-quick, too! And I'll still beat your best time getting back there! C'mon, Wanderer, c'mon, boy!'' Barney crowed with laughter and set off, with a whoop that melded the wild Rebel yell Coop taught him, with a full throated Indian war cry.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

''A mighty fortress is our God,

A bulwark never failing,

Protecting us with staff and rod,

His power all prevailing.

What though the nations rage,

And surging seas rampage;

What though the mountains fall,

The Lord is God of all;

On earth is found no equal. '' the mourners for young Melissa Burke quietly sang, early the next morning. Looking around, Coop Smith saw more of the train's passengers here than he'd expected. The older women from the train were standing with Amanda Burke, supporting her on all sides. The widowed, bereft woman seemed to have shrunk into herself in only the last day, becoming frailer, greyer. Coop wasn't surprised by this. He'd seen the same thing happen to dozens and scores of mothers, like his own, who lost sons in the War, and never fully recovered from that blow.

The scout was surprised to see some of their husbands standing by the grave, standing by their women and Mrs. Burke, despite the grim circumstances of Lissa's death. Maybe these still green, still anxious travelers were beginning to find their kinship, beginning to be the village on wagon wheels they needed to become, to make it across country.

''The waters of God's goodness flow

Through out His holy city,

And gladden hearts of those who know

His tenderness and pity.

Though nations stand unsure,

God's kingdom shall endure;

His power shall remain,

His peace shall ever reign,

Our God, the God of Jacob.'' They finished the old hymn. Chris Hale stood between to the knot of women surrounding Amanda Burke and his youngest crew member and adoptive

son, Barnaby West. Barney, was almost as pale this morning as the bereaved mother and grandmother. But Barney was also making his surrogate father very proud today, keeping a calm façade, and a sharp eye on Charlie Wooster. Charlie seemed to be holding on, after the shock of finding Lissa Burke dead last night, by his gnarled fingertips. The Wagonmaster was just thankful, for once, not to be the one leading these sad services. He'd done so far too many times, and each one seemed to lay on his shoulders, this morning.

Now Rhys Parry stepped back to the graveside and opened his Book to read in a clear, warm voice from Psalm 30: 4,5:

"Sing praise to the Lord, you saints of His, and give thanks at the remembrance of His holy name. For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; weeping many endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning"

Then he looked over the mourners and surprised them all by going to embrace Lissa's mother, and murmur some more personal words of comfort. And only after doing so, did he turn and address them all, with a sad, calm gaze.

'' All of you here this morning are aware that I am not the One here Who knows Lissa Burke best of all, the One Who alone knows her heart and soul.'' He began. ''That One has young Lissa, and her tiny son Willy joyfully reunited, in His All-mighty, All-compassionate arms, at this very moment. That One, not any of us here, called them back to Him, back to the Home that has always and will always be prepared for all of us. And it is, as always, for Him, not

for us, to decide, to choose, and to judge the moment He will call us Home to His all- embracing arms.

And that is perhaps the hardest thing to understand, my friends. And in my own seeking,

in my own soul-searching at such times as this, what I've finally come to understand is;

that we cannot grasp His judgments, His choices, or His time. How can we, His creatures,

even begin to comprehend the mind and heart of our Creator? So we needn't try. We'd be foolish to make the attempt.

We only need understand our own hearts, as best we can, we only need grasp our own choices, our own judgments. We only need comprehend to the best of our ability, the hearts and minds of our neighbors, our fellow-creatures. And where we still cannot comprehend, we only need follow the One Commandment He placed above all others, to 'Love One Another'. And that is what you are doing here, today, by coming to stand and sing and pray with young Lissa's mother, young Willy's grandmother. And that is how I know without question, that the One Who made us all, and shaped all our hearts and minds, is looking down and blessing us, for what we do here, today. G-d bless you all. Are you ready, now, Charles?''

Coop looked at Charlie and then at Chris, the latter looking as surprised as Coop felt, the former nodding and stepping forward to take the Bible Reverend Parry held out to him. Then, standing straight as an oak, squaring his shoulders like a soldier going into battle, in a stronger, sadder, deeper voice than most of the mourners had ever heard him use, Charlie began to read from Isaiah: 61: 1-3:

"The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.''

'' That was grand, Charles.'' The young minister said and then, surprised the group again by beckoning to Barney. ''Barnaby, finish up for us, won't you?''

Barney gulped plainly enough for all to see and hear, but nodded vigorously and walked over to take the Bible from Charlie. The old cook hugged the youngster hard, patted his shoulder and walked back to the others without another word. His young face solemn and not a little proud, Barney opened the Bible to the third place marker, and read, from Romans 8:38-39:

''For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will

be able to separate us from the love of God our Lord."

''Very well done, Barnaby, thank you.'' Parry told the boy, getting something close to Barney's daylight bright grin in return. Then one last time the minister turned to the mourners. ''My friends, let us pray.'' He asked. And all bowed their heads in silent prayer for a mother, a daughter and a grandson. In the stillness of that moment, none of them saw a lanky, bony faced, long legged stranger, moving quietly away from the copse of willow trees where Lissa Burke now lay at peace.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

The Hale train moved back onto the trail after two more days. In that time, not surprisingly, Amanda Burke made the decision to remain in the small town of Kearny, next to the old fort. And her erstwhile neighbors from the train did all they could to see her settled ''where m' girl and her little 'un' are, now.'' That first day out was almost as slow and problematic as the first day out of St. Joseph had been, more than a month before. But the mood was subdued, not celebratory. No one could quite take their minds from the sad events of recent days, to the happier prospects up ahead.

And no one, including Chris Hale and Cooper Smith found themselves ready to pick up their day to day conversations, especially the ones so harshly interrupted by a young mother's death. Lissa Burke's death, although Hale hadn't told anyone besides Lissa's grieving mother, and the chief medical officer at Fort Kearny, was a mystery in and of itself, now. Chris found himself stumped, when he examined her; and turned what little he knew over to someone who might find more answers.

There was nothing the Wagonmaster could point to show the sad young woman hadn't poisoned herself that night, with a massive dose of laudanum. On the other hand he'd found nothing to make certain she had. Amanda Burke bluntly told Hale she wasn't sure she wanted the answer; her daughter had been through enough, and more than enough. But Chris knew he would go on believing he'd somehow been negligent in Lissa's case; and he'd be remiss in his ongoing responsibility, if he didn't learn the truth. He couldn't say he wanted proof the distraught young mother took her own life; yet Chris dreaded the possibility that she hadn't.

[ Did you say I was on the horns of a dilemma over Coop's hiring, Katie mauvoreen? Well now I've got one that beats the other, all-hollow! ] Chris thought as he rode up the line of wagons to find his oldest friend. Whether he should tell Kate, or anyone else his suspicions was the question Hale wrestled with now, Whether he had any right to keep this to himself until word came back from Kearny was it's other side.

And none of that kept the work he had to do, getting these people across a continent, from demanding his time, his energy and his hard-won pragmatism. They depended on him, and so they should since he'd given them all his solemn word. And that word extended to his crew, his friends here, too. They only got in the occasional uproar about his retiring because he'd made a family of them; a family for them, when the very different one created by Seth Adams was broken by 'the Major's' death.

[And now there may be some damnable coward of a killer, riding with us, up this trail! And how do I find that out, how do I make certain those in my charge are safe, without creating total panic? And a couple days ago I was mainly worried about telling Coop I knew and loved both his parents, and yes, that had some part in his getting this job? What makes me think Coop's so young and hotheaded still he wouldn't eventually understand that?

He's Danny's son, and just as levelheaded as Danny always was, after all. And he's Beth's son, and has all of her black-Irish temper, as well. Well, never mind that now, old man! You've got to get your priorities straightened out and on the double-quick! G-d alone knows if all the women on this train, or just the single or widowed, or bereft women on this train are facing deadly danger! So you've got to deal with that, before you go back to worrying if you're going to lose your chief scout before we get out of Nebraska!]

Still making his way up the line, Hale now approached his crew, all on horseback except for Charlie, who kept his perch at the front of his cook wagon. And they were confabbing so intently, it was apparent they didn't note Chris riding up. This might mean anything from a plan of Charlie's regarding fresh meat for his cook pot, to a disagreement over which route Duke should take the point on, to Barney's latest idea to get out of his daily lessons. Bill and Coop could usually be relied on to keep these sessions brief and to a minimum, and not to contribute much to the general chatter. In this instance, not so much, it seemed, as Chris rode around the back of the wagon, unobserved, for now.

'' I swear, I think these folks have forgotten almost everything we taught them since they left St. Joe! Maybe we should make them drill, the way we had to in the War when we weren't too busy marchin', ridin', buildin' earthworks or getting' shot at behind them.'' Bill was suggesting dryly, which earned him wide grins and nods from Coop and Duke, and a wide eyed look from Barney.

'' Well, for Pete's sake leave out teaching them to build earthworks! '' Coop laughed. '' We'd never stop some of them from building sod-houses, and settling in for the winter, instead!''

''Glad to hear you gentlemen in such high spirits.'' Hale called out, coming around Charlie's wagon. '' Now, with your kind indulgence, my friends, may I ask that you break up your symposium for now and get back to the business at hand?''

[ What's the matter with him, now? ] was the look that flashed between the five crew members. ''Yes, sir!'' was what they answered aloud. Nodding and hiding his own half

grin at their reactions, the Wagonmaster turned and rode up the line, again.

'' I think it's the toothache.'' Charlie suggested in a whisper, then. ''Why, even the Major would get irraggible just like this, whenever he had the toothache.''

'' I think he must be on the outs with 'Katie''' was Duke's suggestion, made just as quietly.

'' Well they sure didn't seem that way to me the other night.'' Coop disagreed. '' I think Chris tried Charlie's biscuits again. Because they always give him indigestion. Matter of fact, they always give me the same. What Th' devil do you put in those things, Charlie?''

'' None of your beeswax, Mister-never- got- his- colonel's- wings-Colonel-Smart! Go on and try makin' your own, under these harsh commitments. '' Charlie scolded, while the others went on pretending he was speaking English instead of Woosterish.

'' And I think Chris is gonna turn back and ride down on us like a pack of tooth achey, up all night 'miserable, sick to their stomachs Kiowa, anytime now, 'gentlemen'.'' Bill told them, while he kept a weather eye on the Wagonmaster. '' So let's go on and get busy, shall we?''

''Yes, sir, Mister Ramrod, sir!'' the other four chorused and scattered, not so much to the four winds as to their assigned positions for the afternoon's push towards Grand Island, Nebraska, and points west.

Chris Hale watched them dispersing and sighed. He wasn't looking forward to the rest of this day, as much as he'd wanted and needed to get his people, his train, back on the trail again. They were making what seemed amazingly slower progress this year. Or maybe he was just amazingly more weary and worn-out. And that he couldn't afford to be. Not until he had word back from Fort Kearny.

Out of sight of the Hale train, a group of men, wearing dusters and slouch hats, sat their

mounts and watched and waited, as the line of wagons stretched longer and longer, towards the western horizon. One of these men in particular, a long legged, dark, gangling fellow, astride a grey stallion, kept watching the slowest of the wagons, dropping back, further and further. He'd ridden close enough, twice, in the past week's time, to make clear mental note of which travelers were in the most difficulty on this trek. Now he was letting his companions know which of those presented the least threatening targets. But that wasn't their sole, or even their main criterion for what happened next. Instead, as the man reporting in got nearly done, he glanced towards a slightly younger man in the group, who nevertheless had been its principal, since the late Conflict ended.

This was a cerebral looking man, of medium height and a graceful build, with deep set dark hazel eyes, and thin, black hair receding slightly, now. Under the cavalry officer's slouch hat and duster he effected, this man wore an expensively tailored suit, minus its jacket. Similarly the black gelding this man rode was elegantly outfitted, and like his rider, showed every sign of a gentle breeding. And as his companion stopped speaking, done with his report, this man smiled and nodded, and turned to address the group as a whole.

''My friends, we were extremely fortunate, a few nights ago, in that our boldest companion, our dear Solomon, here, was not apprehended while dealing with our latest target. Greater attention to detail must be paid, in future. In this case, it only **seemed** our person of interest went unobserved or at least, was not missed by her main companion, that being her mother.'' The speaker, a man called Morrissey told them.

''Mebbee we shouldn't go after folks that ain't growed up enough to leave their mommas!'' another member of the group, an unusually tall young man named Geronne, with a powerful build and jovial features, laughed and was joined by all his comrades.

'' We go after whomsoever we need to!'' the first man, who went by the name Solomon Howell, responded with fury. '' And we take them down, as needed. That's what we come

out to this danged wasteland for! Well, ain't it?''

''Hey, take it easy, Sol!'' a fourth man told him, stepping between the two. This was a

member of the group who went by Matt Harkins, these days. He was among the youngest here, with a still boyish, but well muscled build and a wiry frame. His eyes were the color

of old bronze coins, and his molded features showed a likely Creole heritage. '' Robby here was just joshin' with you. You know that as well as any of us. And besides, you could've been tripped up, the other night, by that old man came out and found your danged person

of interest, easy. I saw him, I was watchin', same as you when they planted the girl. He's

old, alright, but he's not blind or deef, now is he?''

''So, what're you saying, Matty-boy?'' Howell demanded, his fists cocked, ready to fly. ''What are all y'all saying to me? That y'all think I done something stupid? Well, think again. I never got caught, not even close an' I got 'er, dint I? I took one more name off th' roll, now, dint I?''

''Most assuredly, you did, my dear man.'' A fifth in the group answered. This was a tall, slender, gracefully built, older man with hair like a black lion's mane flowing back from his vivid features, who called himself Palmerston Montagu, for the most part. He rode a dark red roan thoroughbred, which mount looked as richly appointed as his rider, and now guided his roan next to Howell's grey.

His eyes were wide, icy grey, and cold as a hurricane from his native South Carolina coast. His manner, gestures, appearance and speech were elegant, always deliberate, always with

at least the semblance of serenity and reason. ''No one here questions or quibbles on that point of order. One more irksome creature is now, no longer … irksome, all thanks to your skill and your valor. Why, if such a thing had ever existed, Solomon, my dear, dear friend, I would be calling for you to be awarded the Confederate Medal of Valor!''

'' And I, for one, can think of far better uses to put a bit of brass to, Palmerston.'' Morrissey interrupted them, holding out one blunt fingered hand. '' And I'm sure Sol and the other

boys will agree. It would be much better used as the casing for a rifle's or revolver's bullet, especially when we were so metal-poor, in those old days. And it's still true that we stand

in more need of weaponry than of honors.''

''Well, certainly, old friend, certainly.'' The effusive Carolinian agreed, with only a momentary scowl marring his aquiline features. '' You are quite correct, as always.''

''But you think I done something wrong, is that what I'm still hearing from you, Lee Henry?'' Howell asked, nudging his mount closer to the group's leader, whose full name was Lee Henry Richard Morrissey.

'' Only in your zeal, my friend, your great zeal to accomplish our goals, which has been

known to take you in harm's way. And by doing so, you run the risk of putting us all in

no small danger of being exposed before we are done with our grand endeavors.

And I know you don't wish all our efforts and all our plans to be wasted, to be thrown

away, at this late date.'' Morrissey insisted, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin.

'' Damn right I don't!'' Howell exclaimed, throwing up his hands in obvious disgust. '' What d'ye want me to do, then? Stop cold when I've got another of those danged fools, another

of our rightful prey, walking right into my hands? 'Cause that I won't ever do!''

'' Certainly not. Certainly not, Solomon. I only ask that you no longer take on these

measures of irreproachable justice entirely by yourself. I only ask that you take at

least a lookout with you, from now on. And that is what I expect you to agree to;

as of this moment, my good friend. You do see the sense of that, don't you, Solomon?''

Morrissey answered him, without a note of anger or even temper in his deep, compelling voice.

'' I see you want to hobble me, Lee Henry. And I don't like it so much as a bit.'' Howell insisted, frowning.

''But?'' Morrissey asked, keeping his gaze fixed on the older man's sharp features.

''But I gave my oath, long since, to follow your lead in this. And I don't' break my word.

All y'all know that's nothing but true. So when I'm next heading out after another of the

foes of all of us here; yeah, I'll take me a tough little bandy rooster like Matty here, or a

sharp eared fellow like Zeke back there, along, to watch my back. Wake up, Zeke! Hey,

Adamson! We're not just having a friendly confab, here. I'm talking about you!'' Howell shouted.

Everyone in the group laughed, now as the man Howell called to, sat up on his buckskin gelding as if called to attention. This was Ezekiel Adamson, at least so far as most of this assemblage knew, a dark haired, grey eyed compactly built young man, with a reputation

for a quick trigger and a quicker temper. He had a gunfighter's key habits of sitting at the back of a room or a crowd, and only resting when absolutely sure no one could take a step

in his direction he didn't hear. Now he looked around, and grinned tautly as he recognized who'd awakened him.

''Hey, Sol!'' Adamson shouted back. '' Hey, heard you had a close call, t'other night, boy! You'd best be takin' ol' Zeke here along, next trip.''

''That's what I just told the Man, Ezekiel!'' Howell answered, his face creasing in a fashion that was as close as it ever got to laughter.

''Alright, that's all this gathering was intended to settle, gentlemen.'' Morrissey told the assembly. '' We'll meet in Plum Creek in exactly three days, if there are any pertinent developments regarding our grand endeavors.

Otherwise, we ride as always, in twos or threes at the utmost, westward again. And we will not see or make contact with one another; it is devoutly to be hoped, until we reach our next rendezvous point, the site of which all of you should be very well aware of. Company, dismissed.''


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

They were back on the trail to California again, these people who'd uprooted their whole lives back east to make this trek. And they were finding it easier in some ways, harder in others,

to keep pressing on with each new day. But it seemed to those who guided them, that like

so many others on this trail before them, these would be settlers had just come through their first 'baptism of fire', better and stronger for it. They were going to reach Plum Creek, tomorrow. This was a place that had started as a Pony Express stop out on the Nebraska prairie, nothing more than that, and now was a small town not that much different from the ones they left behind in Pennsylvania, Indiana, Ohio or Kentucky.

And as the pace of the train picked up again, so did its Wagonmaster's mood, for the most part. Hale's crew had been on their best behavior since leaving Kearney, and Chris didn't mind that one bit. Except it gave him no excuse to call Coop over to finish their sadly interrupted talk. Was his chief scout right? Did he only call Coop or any of the others over when they'd done something wrong? No wonder they acted so skittish sometimes! What kind of antique New England style curmudgeon was he turning into?

Still waiting for word from Fort Kearney's medical officer, Chris knew he couldn't wait very long once he had that 'word' to at least let his crew know the unexpected danger they

faced, now. Hale knew most of his passengers firmly believed they were leaving behind

the corruption and criminality of eastern cities. Now he'd have to decide whether or not to

tell them, it had followed them westwards, into what seemed a clean and clear new land! Human nature wasn't essentially different west of the Alleghenies or the Mississippi, either. Good and bad warred within it, as they always had, the Wagonmaster considered, and always would. And how many of these people told me, when signing up, they wanted or needed ' a fresh start, someplace else' ? Why, if they had no troubles, back east?

''Mister Chris?'' Barney West called out, rushing up to the Wagonmaster, interrupting Hale's reverie. ''Mister Chris, there's a fellow, I mean there's a gentleman, just rode up to the cook wagon. But he said he rode all the way from Fort Kearney Just to talk to you, and not anybody… not anyone else, I mean.''

'' Thanks, Barney.'' Chris said, grinning at the youngster, who seemed to be growing taller everyday, these days, astride his blue roan. ''But where is he?''

''Oh, well that's the other part, I needed to tell you, Mister Chris. This … gentleman he and whooped, the way Duke and Coop do sometimes when they see something that's surprising but good. And then he practically ran up to Miss Kate, when she walked through the camp.

And then he gave Miss Kate the biggest ever hug. Seems like she knows him, cos she pulled back an' then hugged him, right back again. They're talkin' over by her wagon, now. And Mister Chris?'' Barney finished, nearly out of breath.

''What is it, Barney, something else I need to know?'' Chris asked, seeing the boy was excited about something, that wasn't how Kate Crawley hugged a stranger from Fort Kearney.

'' This fellow… sorry, this gentleman, he's one heckuva rider, I have to figure, cos he's only got his right arm!'' the youngster exclaimed, his eyes growing wide at the image.

'' That's likely to mean he fought in the War, Barney. A lot of men lost an arm or a leg, when there was nothing to save their lives but an amputation. So, of course they had to learn to do without, or else to use an artificial limb. And G-d willing you'll never have the chance to learn that at first hand.

Now, let's go find out who this gentleman is, who knows Katie that well. '' Hale said, putting one arm around Barney's shoulder, partly to keep the boy from racing back through camp at the same velocity he'd achieved in looking for the Wagonmaster.

''Sure, Mister Chris. Sure.'' Barney answered, accepting the older man's gesture, partly because he'd noted Hale favoring his left hip again today.

'' Dr. Jemison Singer, this is my dear friend Chris Hale, who runs this outfit.'' Kate Crawley was saying, a few minutes later. She had one arm companionably around the back of a wiry, compactly built young man, with dark-sandy hair and sharp features, lit by bright grass green eyes. This man dressed like an Eastern nabob's son or grandson, Chris thought, down to the fancy material of his vest and the gold chain going into his watch pocket. But his manner didn't match that label, he was studying Chris now, too, with a keen intelligence in his gaze. His bearing was a soldier's at parade-rest. And his left coat sleeve was tightly folded, and pinned nearly at the shoulder.

''And Chris, this is my young friend Jemmy Singer from Raleigh, the protégé and colleague of another friend of mine from Boston, Thomas Macquillan. I'm afraid I waylaid Jemmy for a little while; when he actually rode up from Kearney to see you, Chris. But I hadn't seen this rascal in nearly four years! And he didn't write me either! So I'm afraid I've taken your name completely off my dance card, Jemmy!''

'' Now you've completely broken my heart, and given great hope to the whole, entire rest of the male population, Miss Crawley, ma'am.'' Singer grinned, and held his hand out to the Wagonmaster.

'' I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Hale. I came up the trail from Kearney with a report I think you've been waiting for. I'm also here to offer and arrange for any additional help you might need. And I rode up to ask if you're the Chris Hale my cousin Cooper Smith is working for, these days.''

'' He is, Jemmy. And just what kind of help does Chris need? And why all of a sudden do I get the impression I'm not supposed to ask either of you gentlemen about this report?'' Kate demanded to know, looking from Singer to Hale and back again.

'' Because, this report was written at Mr Hale's request, that's all, Kate.'' Singer told her. ''And since I wanted to see if Coop was here, I told the officer at Fort Kearney, I'd bring his report with me. Where is that n'er do well Cousin of mine, anyhow?''

''Oh, Coop rode out this mornin' to take another look at the North Platte.'' Barney blurted out, then turned a wide eyed look on Chris. '' Reckon I should have let you answer that, Mister Chris, 'm sorry.''

'' Reckon you should, Barney, but never mind that now. Dr Singer, this impetuous young man is my youngest crew member, Barnaby West.'' Chris tried and failed to frown at the youngster.

''Glad to know you, Barnaby. '' Singer nodded, took Barney's hand and shook it warmly. ''I actually get a letter about every two years from Coop, so I'm pretty sure he mentioned it being really crowded around here as far as competition for his job goes. Figure you're next

in line for chief scout, aren't you?''

Barney was still grinning ear to ear at Chris labeling him a 'young man', but he shook his head vigorously and corrected the Carolinian. '' Me? Oh, no, no, sir. Duke Shannon's a darned fine scout, too. And Bill Hawks, he's our ramrod, Bill can probably ride rings around both Coop

and Duke as far as scoutin' the trail goes.''

'' Then when I get a moment free, Barnaby will you introduce me to the rest of the crew?'' Singer asked.

''Oh, sure!'' Barney nodded, grinning even wider than before. '' Surely, Doctor Singer, I'd be glad to. That surely is a beautiful grey you rode up the line on, a real beauty.''

'' We try hard not to let Prince hear too many of the compliments he gets, Barnaby.'' Singer smiled, taking a conspiratorial tone. '' He'd really like to be a thoroughbred, you see. But

the old fellow's just a sort of Morab with some quirks added by way of the Welsh ponies my grandfather brought over here with him, years ago. So, if you don't mind, I won't tell Prince you were admiring him when we came in.''

''Oh, oh, sure.'' Barney nodded somberly. '' Wanderer, my blue roan, he gets a bit prideful himself, at times. So I can figure what you're sayin', surely. Ummm… Doctor Singer, I was admirin' the way you rode up, too… It was somethin' to see, alright! I was wonderin' if

maybe you'd be with the train long enough to show me how…''

'

Barney!'' Chris exclaimed, frowning in earnest at the youngster, now. ''Apologize for that, right now, young man and go on about your business.''

''Oh gosh! I'm sorry, Doctor Singer, sir! I'm real sorry. I shouldn't have asked about …'' Barney flushed red and chattered on until Singer put his hand on the boy's shoulder,

smiled warmly and looked him right in the eye.

'' It's alright, Barnaby, or do your friends call you Barney? Anyhow, I actually learned that

way of riding, for fun, when I was a … young man, myself. And I can tell you it really drove my folks wild, when I'd ride up that way. And they were well within their rights, 'cause I got thrown a time or two, doing it. So I didn't have much trouble at all, getting back to that. I don't think I really thought about it, much. Lots of fellows came home with one arm or one leg, some with both legs gone. I've got nothing to kick about, and I don't mind talking about it, either. So, never you mind. And don't stop asking questions, either.''

'' Ummm… alright. Reckon I've got some more work to get done. Thanks, Doctor Singer. I'll get back to that harness work now, Mister Chris.'' Barney said and took off like a shot again.

''Well, if you gentlemen will please excuse me.'' Kate said, chuckling as Barney disappeared from sight. '' I have work to get done too. And I won't trouble you about that mysterious report, again, I promise. Not unless my appalling curiosity gets the better of me, that is.''

'' Don't ever, ever change, Kate, please?'' Singer asked, and Hale could tell this was an old routine with them.

'' I have no plans to, certainly not at this late date, Jemmy.'' Kate answered and climbed

back onto her wagon, sitting with her back to both men.

'' I think we've been summarily dismissed, Dr.'' Chris said, shaking his head, leading Singer away. ''My wagon's over this way, and well out of earshot. I'm glad you brought that report. But I doubt I'm going to be glad about whatever it says. You've read it, I suppose?''

'' I did, out of old courier's habits, in case the paper itself were lost. It's not good news,

except I suppose, for the young woman's mother back in Kearney.'' Singer answered, and handed two twice folded sheets of paper to Hale. The Wagonmaster walked the doctor over

to his wagon and read both pages twice before looking at the younger man.

'' I was right, then. Melissa Burke was murdered.'' Chris finally said when he'd tried twice to find a different answer in those pages.

'' According to what you told us, and with Mrs Burke's permission to do an autopsy, that's what we found. Melissa was forced to swallow enough laudanum to stop the breathing of

a man twice her size! '' Jemmy Singer nodded, frowning. '' And she clearly fought her attacker. She undoubtedly fought for her life. WE found several small, but noticeable

defensive wounds on both her hands. That young woman was anything but suicidal the

night she died.''

''So, we know how she was killed. But we have no idea at all by why or by whom!'' Hale

shook his head, throwing the pages down. '' So now I get to tell my crew and probably the calmer, more rational among my passengers that there's been a murder on my train!''

'' Well, that's actually only partly true, Mr. Hale.'' Singer told him. '' I came up here to give you that, and to talk to my cousin Cooper, because there is some evidence to show us

the motive and the people involved in this killing. Melissa Burke was betrothed to a young

man named Aaron Calder, who died three months ago. And Aaron Calder served in the

8th Texas Cavalry, who called themselves Terry's Texas Rangers, during the War.

Well, in the past eighteen months or a little more, twenty other people, men and women who had the similar connections to the 8th have died, the same way Melissa Burke died. They were all poisoned, is one way to put it, with killing doses of either morphine or laudanum. And those are only the cases we're sure of because we were able to do autopsies. There may be as many as ten or fifteen or twenty more we aren't sure of!

And worse than that, we know that ninety men from that regiment, men listed as fit for duty gave their paroles when Joseph Johnston surrendered. And we know that one hundred and fifty eight men of that regiment left before the surrender, for the Trans-Mississippi, to go on fighting there. So we have, in potential, two hundred and eleven men being targeted by these murderers, as well as whatever surviving families they have.'' Singer sighed tiredly and glanced at the Wagonmaster.

Chris was listening to every word, the doctor-agent could tell, and he was coming to another unwelcome conclusion. '' And you wanted to talk to Coop about these murders? Do you believe he has a connection to the 8th?''

'' I don't have to believe it, Mr. Hale. I know. Coop has the same connection to the 8th Texas that I do, our cousin, Jess Harper rode with Terry's Rangers. The difference is, Coop and Jess are as close to being identical as they could be without being twins. And I'm standing here telling you this, and wondering why you don't look surprised by that fact. Have you met our cousin Jess?''

''Not for many years, no, Doctor.'' Hale answered, looking around, hoping his head scout wasn't learning about their past connection this way. '' I last went down to Nacogdoches

when Beth Smith died. And I haven't talked with Coop about that, either. So if you don't mind keeping a confidence, until I get the chance, until there's a time I can let my friend Coop

know his father was also my very good friend, long ago… ''

'' I won't say a word.'' Singer promised. '' Seems like that would be something between you and Coop, now. In any case, I need to finish telling you why I rode up from Kearney. And I don't think you'll like this part much, either, Mr. Hale. I'm going to tell my Cousin Coop he needs to leave your train, if there's any hope of keeping him alive.''

''Because these murderers could easily mistake him for young Jess, I understand that part. But I wish you luck, Dr, convincing Coop to leave, or do much of anything only for his own protection. I think you must already know just how hard a row to hoe you're looking at, there.'' Chris told the doctor.

'' How blasted stubborn, you mean?'' Singer nodded, with a crooked smile. '' That much I know, very well, and have for a long time.''

'' Yes, I'd have to guess you do. Is there anything more you can tell me, Doctor? Is there anything I can do to keep my friend and my passengers safe from what sounds like a pack

of maniacs, running loose out here?''

'' That's the most apt description I've heard, yet. We don't have anything that pins their motive down any closer than a shared connection to Terry's Rangers. Some of my colleagues are back east, trying to chase down records from that time. And of course, the greatest parts of the Confederate Army's records were lost when Richmond burned.

We're working on a number of theories, but none of them seem to fit with the details we

do know. It seemed logical for starters to speculate that these killers have in their number someone who served with the 8th, who's carrying some incredibly bitter grudge. But that doesn't really explain them killing people like young Miss Burke. It could be a family connection, too, we could be dealing with the survivors of one of the Rangers who didn't

make it home. But that doesn't explain the means these killers have to come across country, to kill and get away with such impunity, nor how they have such a supply of morphine and laudanum. And I hate to think any physician is a willing part of this murder scheme.

So I ask myself who have they robbed, or who have they in some way coerced to keep them supplied? And then I ask myself, if they really plan to murder as many people as we fear, how can we begin to protect those former Confederates and their kin? And that's when I start to wish I could fold, and leave this game. But I can't, not when my cousins and my friends, my best friends growing up are both in the midst of this danger. So, here I am, ready and willing to clonk both Coop and Jess over their hard as mahogany noggins, to keep them safe!''


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Coop knew the train would be safely 'tucked in' for the night by the time he rode back into camp. What the scout didn't know was the reason he'd become so restless, in the past few days, so edgy he needed to ride it off. And everytime he'd decided it was one small thing or another, Coop found reasons to argue those 'reasons'.

The train was making at best a slow progress this year, that was one, although Coop knew that problem rode Chris Hale a lot harder than himself. The accidental death of little Willy Burke had thrown a lot of folks on the train 'for a loop', the chief scout included. Little tykes like Willy were generally 'made of India-rubber', thus able to bounce back from almost any hurt or illness.

Coop recalled the same astounding trait in Jeff, who'd shrugged off so many bouts with ear aches, fevers, and so many bruises from roughhousing with his brother, he'd seemed indestructible. And so Jefferson Smith always was, until a gorgeous, flame-haired woman

with the heart of a ruthless …. [ Best not go there, best not ride that trail again.] Coop stopped himself.

[You nigh onta lost yourself on it, last time! And what good did that do Jeff, anyhow? None, that's what! Momma wouldn't have stood for the way you handled that near-fiasco. Daddy wouldn't either, not for an instant, no matter what about Jeff. And what about Jeff? Don't you know by now he's nowhere anything you … or anyone else does or says can touch him? Like that Welshman, that young preacher was saying, certain sure Jeff went running right 'home' like he always did, back in east Texas, dashing right up to Granpa Nate, first thing… hoping for some hard candy! Nope, time to face facts, 'big brother', what you got up to as far as Sandra Cummings was concerned, was only for you and your own helpless anger when Jeff … when Jeff went and got himself shot! Sorry, Jeffy! 'm so awfully sorry!]

But Sandra Cummings, her daughter Paula and their odd little troupe came in and out of Coop's life nearly two years ago, now. So he couldn't saddle them with the antsy, itchy-fingered feeling he had these days. And it surely wasn't because of Chris' ongoing 'close friendship' with Kate Crawley. The scout knew he was over his self-described 'boneheaded' reaction to those two. Chris saw 'Katie' and lit up like a German Christmas tree, every single time. He loved her. Kate saw Chris and smiled just as brightly every single time. She loved him, and cared for Chris, as the Wagonmaster would never do for himself.

[Yeah, and if **you **knew a woman who read you**, who saw you through and through,** the way Kate sees Chris, warts and all; and she still loved you that much… How many armies, even armies of your friends would you fight off to hold her? Yeah, reckon you know that answer. ]

None of these matters were riding Coop hard enough to make excuses for another turn

at the trail ahead. And there was nothing to find on that trail he hadn't seen on the first

go, this year. The plains of middle and western Nebraska were dotted with more towns

and homesteads, crossed by more tracks, cut up by more fences than last year.

The way those plains spread, then curved and narrowed, heading west into Wyoming Territory, up into the Laramie and Medicine Bow ranges hadn't changed, Coop figured, in only G-d knew how long. The Platte, and its major branches, North and South were muddied up with more irrigation this year, but in some places still flowed a mile across. Finally, stopping to let Gambler rest and drink from one of the hundreds of streams running off the North Platte, Coop nodded to himself as he found his 'reason'.

The sudden, shocking death of sad, young Lissa Burke, the brief glimpse he got of her lying like a broken alabaster-china doll in her mother's arms, the way it made no sense at all, that was driving him. She was hardly more than a child herself! That was driving him, the same way Jeff's death at nineteen had. And that, clearly was still driving Coop, the same way the deaths of so many other boys, not just in his own 1st Texas, but everywhere he looked, everywhere anyone looked, all through the war, drove him.

[ Yeah… and how many hundreds, how many thousands of other fellows, is that angry, helpless, uprooted feeling still driving? It surely drove me away from everything I grew up knowing and loving and thinking I'd hold to… always. It drove me out here, where at least

the whole countryside isn't marked with graves and ashes, isn't stained with tears and blood.]

''Okay, big fellow,'' Coop said, chuckling to Gambler as he mounted the big sorrel gelding. '' I've got the burr under my saddle worked loose and out, now. Don't know what more there's to do about it. Maybe Chris will. Guess I'm no wiser on this score than Barney is, after all. I can't think what …''

In the next instant, someone leapt at Coop from behind, knocking him and his attacker off

the gelding onto the stream-bank. The scout twisted to get out of this heavy-set stranger's grasp, and reached for his revolver. But now three men were on him, one pinning each of Coop's arms, hard to the ground, the other unbelting his gunbelt entirely, laughing as he untied the thong that held it to Coop's right leg, and pulled the whole belt away. A fourth, lankier man stood at Gambler's side, as Coop fought the two holding him, lifting the scout's rifle from its scabbard. Then he shouted and slapped the gelding hard on it's left flank. That signal from a man, even if not its own particular man, meant 'run like blue blazes', which the big horse did.

'' Who are you? And what in the devil, besides strandin' me out here, do you want?'' Coop shouted, staring up at this fourth figure, wondering why not one of his attackers had said a word. They seemed almost uniformed, all wearing long trail-riders dusters and cavalry slouch hats, and the first three all seemed to defer to this fourth one.

''Just you.'' a fifth man answered, stepping out of the dusk shadows like some kind of ghost,

in a voice cold enough to freeze a prairie fire. '' That's all.''

'' Yeah. And it was real helpful-like,'' the second man, a bright-eyed, sandy-haired youth really, holding Coop's right arm down laughed cheerily. '' Real helpful of y', ridin' away from

all those nosey, worthless, sod-busters on that there train, like y'done. we were runnin' behind on our grand ol' endeavors… But now ye put us way ahead of schedule! Ain't that awfully sweet an' obligin' of him, fellas?'

''Shut your damn flappin' jaw, before I shut it for you, youngster!'' the darker, compactly-built older man on Coop's left arm hissed. ''He ain't got any need to hear that!''

'' Y'all don't need to be in such a uproar, boy.'' the very tall, very strongly built man

who'd knocked Coop down suggested, grinning, tilting his head and peering down at the

scout. ''He hain't gonna be doin' much if any talkin'. Fact, he hain't goin' nowhere, **not**

till we send him… anyhow.''

[ Well, that didn't sound very promising.] Coop considered, glancing from one man to another, looking at the odds against him. '' Look if you wanted some cash, fellas, you should've kept my horse here, in fact, you should've kept my horse…''

The big man laughed and slammed one very large fist into Coop's face, laughing more as Coop's mouth and nose bled some. '' Who asked you anythin', Harper?'' he asked, and plainly, he did not want an answer.

[ _Harper? What in blue blazes has Jess gotten us into this time? I don't think these fellas_

_are only lookin' you up to swap war stories, Cousin! Fact of the matter, I don't think this youngster's much older than Barnaby!]_ Coop considered, tasting the salt of his own blood

and suddenly glad he hadn't had supper.

[_Well, I don't like the looks of these fellows much, Jess. But they don't seem to know how some folks think we look alike, so I'm definitely not settin' them on your trail. There are only five of them; after all, I can still slip away… at some point. The train's not even a half-mile up the trail from here… Yeah, it'll be alright, Jess. But, dang it anyway, Cousin, I think it officially just stopped bein' fun, havin a look-alike!]_

'' Stand up.'' the fifth man, who seemed in charge here told Coop now. The scout knew

his chin was jutting about a mile by now. His temper was climbing like a fever, too. He'd

never cottoned much to taking orders, unless from someone he greatly respected. Not

too many folks ever made that list. And this tall, thin, cold-eyed stranger wasn't among them.

''He said, stand up.'' the compact-built, tough looking man on his left growled. And then

he made what Coop had to take for his mistake and the scout's main chance. He released Coop's arm. The scout twisted away from the youngster's grip on his right arm. Then he ran,

head down into the order-giver, butting him flat on his bony backside, Coop hoped like hell.

Would 'cold-eye's' cadre help him up or just boil back up the trail after 'Jess'? Coop didn't know and wasn't about to stop and ask. Instead he dived towards the little stream, got up, and ran down its length another four or five good yards. Then, he realized his real trouble.

A quartet of riders sat their mounts directly in front of him, with four gleaming rifles fixed on Coop, as the first five came up behind him. _This could become a problem_.

The train was three fourth's of a mile back up the trail, Gambler might reach the circle up, or at least the picket line there at any moment, and riderless. That would certainly cause whoever had the watch tonight to take notice. And that could mean help on the way, soon.

That could also mean his friends riding into this exact same trouble. Coop hoped Duke, or

Bill, who were most likely to ride this way in such a case, first took some thought and some precautions. Some sort of waiting game needed to be played here. Some sort of bluff, one that didn't involve telling these friendly folks they had the wrong cousin here, was definitely called for. Now Coop put both hands up, as high as his arms would stretch. Both his arms were a tad bit sore right now, and so was he. But he swallowed on that and turned a wide eyed grin on the newcomers.

'' Do I owe you fellas some money that I plumb forgot about?'' Coop asked, shrugging in

what he knew was a very Jessian-manner.

''You owe us nothing.'' one of the newcomers said and Coop's jaw nearly dropped into the creek-bed. This speaker, wearing a slouch hat and duster just as the rest did, handling a stallion and a rifle with evident, practiced ease was a woman! '' I see you at least know to remove your hat in the presence of a lady.'' she then laughed, in a way that made Coop's spine turn to ice.

'' I was raised by a very strict mother, aunt , and grandmothers, ma'am to respect all womankind at all times, and under all conditions.'' Coop agreed, nodding. His hat was back

where he'd left his bedroll and kit. But there was no reason, yet, for him to contradict her.

'' Yes, yes, your maternal grandmother being one Meredydd Traherne Cooper of Louisville and later, Nacogdoches, your paternal grandmother was a Northern girl, though, I believe, from Frederick, Maryland, Maryellen… Clement was her maiden name… No, wait, wait… I think I may have that incorrectly…

Oh, now I recall the truth of the matter, it was your **grandfather,** Elias Alexandre Harper who was born in Mon'real and immigrated to Maryland as a small boy. And he did in fact, yes, now I have it right, he did marry a young woman who …lived for a time in St Bernard's Parish, near N'Olins. Her name … was given to me as Mirielle Anastaise Meraud Clement …Harper. I'm not quite clear on where she was born, **or whom her people were, **but surely she was … to some extent, a Southron girl. And your late mother was Jennifer Meredith Cooper Harper. Your maternal aunt, her sister, who partly raised you and your two surviving siblings, after your parent's tragic deaths, was Elisabeth Micaela Cooper Smith. So, perhaps we needs must excuse your lapses in proper behavior, Harper, with your paternal **grandfather** not being Southron at all, which would mean that you are **not truly** **Southron**, yourself. Perhaps. Yes, perhaps, that's the case, with you, Harper. Do you think so?''

Coop bristled, he'd heard this 'charge' against Jess, a time or two before now, mostly in school while growing up. And he wasn't sure if this oddly dressed, oddly regal woman really wanted him to answer her. So he waited, giving her only another shrug.

'' Ah, you are well-mannered!'' she exclaimed, almost giggling. '' You have my leave to answer my question now, Harper.''

'' No, ma'am. I don't think there's anything about where she was born that changes the core truth about my Granma Miri, my Daddy's momma. She was a real lady, you see. And so it wouldn't have made any difference if she'd been born in Frederick, N'Olins or in Raleigh or in some gutter anywhere else in the whole, entire world. And, b'sides, she died when I was two and a half, ma'am.'' Coop said, carefully amending his own age to Jess'. [How does she know as much as she does, and still these guns of hers mistook me for Jess?]

''How very sad. I believe I did come across that distressing fact and quite set it aside in my mind as simply too sorrowful to dwell on. One must learn from the past, after all, and yet live in the present, mustn't one, Harper?'' she asked, sounding as if she were in a Sunday parlour with a picture album, somewhere, instead of a streambed with a rifle.

'' Don't see as how one has much choice on that, ma'am.'' Coop answered, cocking his head, trying to see more of her face below the full brimmed hat.

'' No, one would suppose one doesn't. Well, with that well settled, I'll say farewell, now, Harper. I may possibly see you again. Yes, I think that's a strong possibility. I strongly doubt, though, that you'll see me. Gentlemen, please, go on about your business.'' the woman said, as if she were telling her maid to ring for tea, then turned her stallion and rode away from the seven men now surrounding Coop.

''Turn around.'' 'cold-eyes' told him.

He was in much more trouble now. Now this icy fellow was angry. And Coop knew he could only improve his chances by taking some. '' And just why should I?'' he asked, otherwise ignoring the man stepping up behind him.

''Because you were told to. Because I was told to go about my business. And that's the

way things work around here. We all do as we're told. That's the only way thing work

here.'' 'cold-eyes', who Coop did not know as Solomon Howell, answered.

'' Then I reckon things ain't gonna go on workin' so well around here.'' Coop snarled, and swung at the rail thin 'boss-man', connecting a strong left hook to his squarish jaw. Howell went down into the stream with a resounding splash. Coop didn't' run now, he was too mad for that. He had something to prove. Something about hired guns like these, if that's what they were, not being allowed to talk trash about his family, he supposed. And there were still nearly too many of them, three mounted. And now, the whole streambed echoed with the sound of six rifles being cocked all at once.

'' I was told to take charge, here.'' 'cold-eyes' shouted to the other six men, standing up again. ''And that is precisely what I mean to do.''

'' Well, come ahead, then!'' Coop dared him, his temper up, his nerves all but dancing. ''What's keepin' you, boy?'', judging 'cold-eyes' to be his own age, or a tad bit older. And

the word by itself was deadly insult enough in some places, the scout knew full well, to

earn the man who used it some serious grief. 'Cold eyes' swung at the scout, angrily,

and wildly. Coop felt like laughing in his turn, but saved his breath.

He needed it. This boss-man was exactly as slick and as vicious with his own fists as he

looked to be. They fell into the stream and got up, beat on each other and fell again and wrestled there. Coop knew a couple 'injun-tricks' that no Indian ever taught him, and made good use of what he knew about using another man's height or weight against him. The boss-man knew how to throw a well aimed sucker-punch, and the scout knew how to twist away from one. Coop knew, and usually forbore to use tactics such as aiming slamming blows at a man's kidneys. His opponent, however, had no such qualms. Coop's lower back felt as if

it was on fire.

'' Working for these Yankee bastards has you real softened up these days, don't it, Harper?'' the boss-man sneered.

''Not so I've noticed, not so they've noticed, either, boss-man.'' Coop scowled. '' Does workin' for a madwoman make you any softer? Does it?''

'' You're not the only man in the world that learned to respect a lady, growing up, Turncoat!''

Coop's eyes narrowed. He knew Jess'd made peace with riding dispatch from one Union fort to another towards the end of the war and just after. He knew some 'purely Southron' types like these would never make or find any peace with those years, and some Yankees too, for that matter. [ But most folks wanted, and still want it over. Hell! Most folks wanted it over nearly as soon as it began, for G-d's sake! ] '' My coat's the same as ever, boss-man! And I never needed to hide it under a damn duster, either! Also, and I know you boys, riding the trails out here, might not have heard about this: The damn-all War's over!''

''For some people, mebbee'' the big man yelled before his boss could answer. ''For all th' turncoats, little Yankee whores, traitors, nigger-and damn-Yankee lovers, mebbee! Not for

any true Southrons, not for us, it hain't over!''

''Who's asking you anything, big boy?'' Coop yelled back.

This man, easily as tall or taller than Duke and heavier, now rushed at Coop, his wide face flushed, his fists cocked, clearly eager to pummel the scout.

''Not yet.'' 'cold eyes' told him, though and he retreated, frowning.

''Don't keep all the fun for yerself, though!'' one of the other men, the youngest one, shouted. '' You been havin' all the fun altogether too often, lately, boy!''

'' I do what I'm told.'' Howell answered, glaring at the speaker, and the other five men. ''I follow orders, when they're given. And I get those things done that most need doing, a whole lot more often than you lot, put together! Do any of you boys dast deny that? No, you damn well don't! I go after traitors, turncoats and damn-Yankee lovers along with their bastards, all the time, five, ten times more than you lot has the dang nerve to! And I never came close to bein' caught! No, sir! I get who I go after, and I take 'em down, I take 'em off th' roll! Nothin' and no one has got in my way, so far, not and lived to tell the tale! And nothin' and no one will ever stop me!''

Coop stared at their boss, then glanced around at the others. Was their boss-man admitting they'd done murder? And if so, how could Jess be one of their targets? And if so, how was Coop going to get away from these 'fun loving' killers with his own life? And how was he going to warn his cousin? First he had to get past 'cold-eyes'.

'' I wouldn't be quite so sure of that, boss-man.'' Coop challenged him bringing that dark, icy gaze back to him again. '' It's not quite so un-civilized out in these parts anymore that a man won't still hang for murder. Most folks seem to insist on that. Reckon you and your boys and that lady must not worry much about going to prison for decades, or else facing

the gallows.

Now, it ain't always the gallows, though. I hear up in Utah, the Mormons like to put a man guilty of murder up in front of firing squad, 'stead of on the end of a hangman's knot. Quicker that way, too, unless they only manage to shoot you in the gut. Reckon you all saw boys

gut-shot in the war, didn't you? Pretty bad way to go, takes days, sometimes weeks. Yeah, pretty bad way.'' Coop shook his head and glanced back at the youngest of the men, once more. Then he shook his head yet more sadly and looked away, again.

'' Reckon you don't have worry about any of those things, Harper.'' The boss told him. ''Reckon mebbee you should be worried about me, though. And after me, my fellows.

I don't mean to have all the fun, this time. I don't mean to rush things, either. So you

might think about saving your breath, while you've got it to save!''

''**Now, hold on!**'' Another of the men called out, and as Coop had hoped, got off his big overo stallion. '' You're pretty much exaggerating things, aren't you?'' He asked, striding over to stand between the combatants. This was a whip-thin, muscular, young man with strong Spanish Creole features, wide dark brown eyes that seemed to take up half his face, and a high strung manner. At first, the scout thought this speaker was addressing him, but he turned to glare at the boss, which made Coop quickly swallow a taut smile.

''Exaggerating? What precisely do you think I'm exaggerating?'' 'cold eyes' demanded.

'' Well, just for starters, how much more you do, how much more you get done than the

rest of us.'' his challenger answered. '' And then, I'd have to say you're getting a bit carried

away, and a bit immodest, too, about what you're supposed to be in charge of; and what you're supposed to be doing, right now, today. We were all told what we're to do. And we're all ready and willing to do our part, here, same as always. But we're not to do any more than that, and you know it!''

''Is that all?'' the boss asked calmly, as if inquiring about the price of a meal or the list of supplies needed.

''Almost all.'' the Creole answered. ''There was just one more thing. I'd really be more careful, if I were you, about letting troublesome fellows like this gringo stir up trouble amongst us. Because that's just what he's trying to do, and you don't even seem to hear him!''

''Oh, I heard him. I just don't give a flying damn what he says. '' Howell told the Creole,

a man he disliked, but whom their leaders trusted, called Tyler Pierce, in most places.

'' Fine. Then you also don't give a flying damn that he's actually getting through to the boy, over there. Fine. Great. Go on then. Don't let me stop you making a complete disaster of what we were told to make a simple job of work, por favor, El Senor padron.'' 'Pierce' nodded and bowed, touching his forehead like the very image of a peon.

''Stop this Pierce. And stop it now, d'ye hear?'' Howell told him. ''We still have that job of work to get done here.''

''Si, Si, Senor padron. Esti apesadumbrado. Muy apesadumbrado.'' the Creole scowled,

and took a step closer to Coop. Then, in a bitterly mocking voice he began to seemingly upbraid and disparage the Texan. '' El orador no entiende una palabra de español, ninguno de los muchachos aqui ahora hacer. Pero, un amigo mutuo, Dr. Jemison Singer, cuya madre era su madre primo, Jessamyn, me envoi aqui para ayudar a poner fin a estos asesinos, y eso es lo que quiero decir ahora, y con sequir haciendo. Asi que you el gran favor de actuar insultado gravemente, al tiempo que me dice esto.''

Coop cocked his head and then frowned grimly at the Creole, just barely nodding to show he understood he was being given a veiled message. The Creole then went on, still in Spanish.

'' I'm here to stop these fellows' rampage, I can't actually get you away from them. But I can and I will stop them short of killing you, as they have more than twenty others. Also, I can and I will keep you from meeting with that madwoman again. It would not go well with you; not well at all, friend, if you did. When you see our mutual friend again, you need to tell him this; These bastards are under that madwoman's orders, and she has ordered them to do truly horrific things, including murder. I have learned she has a true vendetta against Mister Harper, something to do with her younger brother's death.

And this braggart over here, he's deadly dangerous, as you can surely tell. And as I said before, he likes to exaggerate his own importance and his own deeds. And he likes to assume command when he has no right to it, as he seems to be doing, again, today. He truly likes to kill. Yes, he's also quite crazy... And if he gets the chance my friend, he will kill you **and **your cousin. Not only because he may be ordered to do so, but because you've not made him very happy, today

The last person he killed was a young mother you may have known, Her only fault, according to these killers, was with the man she loved and wished to marry, Mister Smith, yes, I know your name, Jemmy made sure I knew of the family resemblance, also he told me which of his cousins and friends is in Nebraska presently, and which one is not.

Do you understand me, please say no, quite loudly and angrily, and as I said, please act

as though I just made some sort of reference to your sainted mother. Thank you. I'm sorry,

I can't help you further, in fact, I'll likely have to let these men hurt you rather badly or I

will be found out and they will continue their madness...Do not repeat this aloud, if you please, my friend, repeat this only to Doctor Singer, I **am** one of his associates, and despite what you may or may not hear from these madmen, my name is not Tyler Pierce, my name is Teo Bracamante. And Doctor Singer has been my friend and mentor since the last year of the late War.''

'' Don't dare say that again, damn you!'' Coop growled, just barely nodding his understanding of the Creole's warning, ready to land a haymaker guaranteed to take the Creole off his feet. '' Nobody says that about my mother! She's been dead and gone nearly twenty years, now! Don't you dare say anything about her, you…''

The Creole only grinned mischievously and clipped Coop on the jaw, so well the scout was the one knocked to the ground, or actually, back into the water. The whole group, except for their boss laughed heartily at that, and Coop wondered if the man's face would crack in pieces if he tried smiling. There wasn't any time to find out. Coop's mind was whirling at what he'd just found out. These laughing bastards really were murderers… twenty or more times over! And they had every intention of coming after Jess Harper. Added to those ideas were his cousin Jemmy Singer's involvement, and the murder of Lissa Burke, to boot!

''Shut up.'' the boss man told Coop, and as the scout stood again, followed that with a punch to his gut that sent Coop backwards, sprawling. [ No fair, I was busy bein' thrown for a loop about all these murders!]

'' No, **you **shut up! He was talkin' about my mother!'' Coop raged. The young Creole was damned brave and damned honest. There was no easy way out of this tangle, now. And where was Jemmy Singer, anyway, these days? In Frederick, doing his doctoring, or in Washington, Boston, Chicago or New Orleans, looking out for the real nabobs, or in Raleigh, or in San Antonio, or Nacogdoches, for that matter, just visiting kin there? The man never seems to keep still a moment, he never has. But the way the young Creole talked, that ever-busy Tar Heel had to be somewhere close by these days. Why hadn't he warned Jess? Or had he?

''I said, shut it!'' Howell ordered, and matched a vicious kick or two to his angry words.

'' You just said she's long dead, didn't you?''

Coop rolled away from the man's sharp-toed boots and made himself stay down a minute,

still working on what he'd learned. Groaning loudly then, he got up and made as if he'd still

go after the Creole, swearing to give him some real trouble.

'' You're getting things kind of mixed up, now, Harper.'' the boss said, shaking his head. '' We're the ones giving out all the trouble here. You're the one getting it, from us. Seems

like you're just not paying attention. And I was having so much more fun, acting like this was going to be a fair fight. Rope him.''

One lariat, then another and then a third swung over Coop's head now before he could move.

He was bound hand and foot, with allowances left for possible hog-tying, in another minute. No gag, though, not yet. They weren't worried he'd yell his head off… Except the boss-man didn't seem to like yelling. Help might be pounding up the trail towards him now, and it might not be. Gambler was a good fellow, strong, sure-footed, fast, and dependable as sunset and sunrise. But when last seen, the gelding was also hungry and thirsty. So was Coop. Nothing for it, now, but to break away from these killers, if he could. The scout didn't doubt his skill at getting out of tight situations. He also didn't doubt these murderers would ride right after him should he leave their 'company', right to the train!

[ Okay, bad idea. Don't let bad guys who like killing innocent young women ride back

after you where they can get at your friends and a few hundred other innocents just like

Lissa Burke! Stay here, make them waste some of their time. This is going to really

hurt. You can thank me another time, Jess. Cause you're going to really owe me.]

''This isn't my idea of how to treat a guest, fellows.'' Coop said, looking at his bonds.

'' You're not a guest, here. You're our job for today, remember?'' the boss told him. ''And

I'm not done with my share of the work yet. You don't want the other boys to have to

pick up my slack, do you?''

''Course not.''

''Fine. Great.'' the boss said jabbing Coop's still aching gut a few more times. ''Now we're getting somewhere, mebbee. No questions, Harper? No curiosity? What, have all these Yankees drummed that out of you? I heard you were always the eager one, always the first

to ask what kind of devilment, commotion or other trouble you could make for the Yankees.

I heard you were only sixteen when you signed onto the 8th Texas, and really full of beans, back then. Somebody knock the stuffing, or the beans right out of you, did they, Harper?''

'' Fifteen.'' Coop corrected him, grunting. '' I was fifteen when I signed on with Terry's Rangers. And I guess we made or stirred up enough devilment, alright. We made some first at Pittsburgh Landing and then all the way east to Atlanta! Made some stops at Chickamauga and Murfreesboro, and Franklin, too. Guess you didn't hear about those. Why? Who'd you ride with?''

''None of your damn business.'' Howell answered, and punched even harder, this time, dropping Coop to his knees in the stream.

''With nobody, then. I get it. Real brave fellow, aren't you, boss-man?'' Coop couldn't

keep himself from asking, groaning and glaring at the man. ''Specialize in beating men

bound up hand and foot, do you?''

Now the murderers' boss hauled Coop back onto his feet, and glared at him a long, and genuinely scary moment. Coop glared right back, chin out, mouth taut, eyes sparking. This guy was definitely _muy loco_, but the scout wasn't about to give him an inch of ground, while he could help it.

'' A lot of boys we here knew rode with the 8th, Harper. A lot of them got left at Pittsburgh Landing and all those other high spots. A lot of fine, brave, true-hearted Southron boys got

left all over the map back then.

But I don't figure anyone who came home whole has anything to brag on. All that means to me is they knew better how duck and run.'' Lissa's murderer hissed at him.

'' You think whatever you like, mister. The war's still over. And it has been for going on

eight or nine years now. Guess some of us would rather fight new fights. Guess some of

us are looking for a fight we can win, and not wonder if we should've. Bobbie Lee and Joe Johnston both signed the Armistice, back in the '65, y'know? I always figured if those two old warhorses, said to quit th' fightin'… I'd surely go along with them.''

''Jeff Davis would've never quit the fight! He'd be fightin' on, now, today if anybody had listened to him!'' 'cold eyes' almost shrieked.

''Yeah, that's what I heard, too.'' Coop nodded. '' And just think, if we'd done it that way, boys! Just think! How many more fine, brave, true-hearted Southron boys could be left stacked up like cordwood, everywhere you look by now!''

''So you are a Turncoat, after all, Harper. You are a traitor to the Cause. I knew you'd

admit it, soon or late. I knew you would. And here's a starting taste of what we give to traitors!'' the boss threw Coop off his feet, back into the water, and started back up kicking. As hard as he could, the murderer kicked Coop in the side, in the back, in the head, in the back of his head as Coop tried to maneuver away from the blows. The scout rolled in the water, that was feeling better and better as his body responded to its injuries with a rising heat. But when Coop thought this would turn out to be the biggest part of the lunatic's repertoire, he found himself pulled up and thrown down or punched in the face, in the gut,

and even more painfully, in the small of his back.

Now Coop felt something immensely hard striking at the back of his head. Fireworks didn't begin to describe the painful colors and lights before his eyes for the next long moment. Somehow turning or being turned, he saw their source, through the lights and colors, a

rifle butt, being wielded much more as if it were a baseball bat. Stunned, Coop looked up and held back a shudder. He was soaked through to his skin now, and getting cold but that wasn't the reason. What he saw plainly now was that this icy fellow would be just as glad to kill Coop outright, laying here, as to let his cohort join in, as to follow whatever orders he might have been given by 'esa loca'. They'd never laid eyes on each other, as of less than an hour ago, and this man was ready and willing to kill the scout, thinking he was killing Jess.

The chief murderer seemed in a kind of frenzy now, as Coop had seen happen to men in battle. He wasn't looking at Coop's face, he wasn't listening to Coop's gasps, or his occasional taunts, either. He was only raining blows, with his fists, his feet and Coop wasn't sure what else, on the scout's wiry frame. He seemed unaware that he was striking another human being. He was just as crazed as the woman! Coop stared at this eager, manic killer and shivered.

Then the boss-man gave some wordless signal and as bad as things already were, they took a sharp turn for the much worse. First one, then two, then four, two again and then three at a time the others joined in the 'fun'. Apparently the boss had done all he cared to, or used up his quota or some such; and so at least, now there were only six attackers. And they were all a lot fresher, coming to the 'fight' then Coop Smith was.

A kind of fury, a desperate kind, informed the scout's every thought now. These eager killers were just plain enjoying it too much! Dizzy and sick with blows from every direction. He knew these men might not be as crazed as the woman or their boss-man. But they were perfectly willing to do as those maniacs told them. Coop's face was cut and bleeding now, and a bit numb. His eyes were swelling shut on him. Any minute now, Coop knew, he'd be face down in the water. His arms were aching and weary. His breathing was hard and painful. His legs, especially the right one that he worried might be re-broken, were giving up the struggle again to hold him upright.

And then he fell, and lay sprawled in the streambed, only just able to turn his head enough

so he wasn't drowning. His back was to the killers, exposed to any weapon they came up

with. He couldn't move, much less well or fast enough to so much as turn his side to

them. But Coop was also losing a lot of his understanding, now, slipping in and out of

being conscious. Blurs of color and light moved around him.

A lot of somethings seemed to be touching him that he could just barely feel, now. A lot of the noise, anger, pain and fear of the past few minutes was slipping out of his grasp, as well. He had no more strength, and less and less will to hold it. He was losing… something. He was losing, letting go.. No! He was being pulled from every handhold, every foothold. He was struggling against a sudden, impossible undertow! Something strange and close around him and suffocating was taking over all his limbs. Something sharp and bitter as his worst, his darkest dreams, was wrapping itself around each of his senses. A freezing fog from G-d alone knew what or where was settling on his mind, on his thoughts, and somehow on his breathing, and whatever it's source, he only knew it would surely, easily destroy him.

Another change he couldn't control or fight off, and only that sharpness remained with him.

It was touching him, and touching to screaming, frantic, conversely paralyzing, panicked life every fiery nerve, for an endless succession of tortured breaths. It was shortening each breath into those taken at a mountaintop, clear and frigid and far too thin. It was killing him, and

he couldn't' say any longer whether by drowning, by freezing or by suffocating. And its nature, it's sharpness and it's destructive hold were all things he knew, or things he might have known, recognized or recollected, from somewhere, eons ago.

He couldn't have stood up now, not to save his own immortal soul, or anybody else's so how could he be falling, the reeling, whirring mind of the man face down in the wondered? He couldn't draw breath enough to whisper, so how could he be screaming now? He couldn't be blinded, deafened, paralyzed, without realizing that kind of injury, so how could he be where there was no light, no sound, and no hope of movement?

He was all but numb now, everywhere, which should have been a relief from pain shooting through his ribcage, his limbs, his back and neck. It wasn't. In fact, it terrified the scout.

At least the pain told him unmistakably he was still alive, still this side of Glory, or Perdition, depending on whether you asked his friends or foes. Absurdly, the scout began to recall, almost to hear his namesake grandfather Nathaniel Kieran Cooper, in his home church' pulpit, preaching on the subject of his firm belief in Predestination. The destined end of every living soul ever created, that text ran, was long since written and unalterably, by the hand of the Almighty. The Saints were marked out, and Saved Eternally, the Damned were likewise Always and Forever Lost.

[ _But which am I, Grampa?] _Coop heard his child-self asking the old man, who was as gentle with his grandchildren as he was harsh with his congregants. [ _Can you see how I'm marked down, Grampa? Can you see for Momma, or Jeffy, Daddy, for Jess, Cousin Frank or Aunt Jenn? Where'm I to go, Grampa? An' why was I marked th' one way or t'other? _]

[ _Only He Who writes in that Eternal Book can see those things, Cooper-Little ] _the old man said, but in his kindest voice. [ _And that is truly one of His Greatest Mercies, grandson. For if we knew, life-long what our end was, how could we keep our spirits, the spark of His Sacred Spirit alive within us, from condescension on the one hand, or from desolation on the other?_

_It's not given us to understand the mind of the Almighty, Cooper. Nor would we wish to. We can only rely on His Word, and do the best we may._

_He doesn't wish us to fear Him, grandson, that's not what Fear of the Lord means a bit. No, He wishes us to accept that we are not, nor could we ever be the true Power in the Universe He made, and accepting that, accepting His Hand in our lives, we best do His Will. Now, don't worry yourself over such vast things, grandson. You see, to my way of thinking that's the whole point of the 'argument'. _

_We are like Children, compared to the Almighty, always. And like children, we please Our Father most by trusting in His Sacred Judgment, in His Holy Will. Now, run on along, Cooper. Run on up the hill and tell your momma and your Aunt Jenny I'll be there directly, will you? Run on, now, grandson, it's one of the gifts of Youth to be fleet of foot and unerring in their footpaths. It's one of the gifts of Age to be slow and steady, whilst heading for the ribbon. That's it, Cooper, run on up and hug your momma. I'll be there directly… I will…] _

[ _I'm goin', Grampa, I am!_ ] the child answered, started running, then turned and fiercely hugged his grandfather. [ _Thanks, Grampa. I'm goin', now] _

Suddenly, some kind of high, rackety, furious noise Coop couldn't understand, and

almost couldn't hear was filling the air above the stream. Some other growling, rumbling

noise responded to it. The racket came back and that seemed to settle the growling's hash

for it. A pounding, that shook the streambed and the bank and the wider world around it took the place of both growling and racket. But it was moving away from the man in the water.

And that man, Cooper Smith, was no longer sure if that noise moving away was good or bad. He wasn't sure in fact if he'd truly heard it. He wasn't sure of much at all, right this minute, really.

In that sudden lack of noise, part of Coop's dizzied brain tried to think, tried to figure what just happened. That was too much trouble now. It only made his head and the whole, entire rest of his body ache, just trying. Laying in the shallow water, the scout began to lose even the sense of where he was, or why he might be there, cold right through to his bones and

very tired. But there was … there had been a reason… It only made him even sicker and dizzier trying to recall what that reason might be, though.

When a new pounding shook him and the streambed, Coop hardly knew it. When new noises that were low and easing, warm and compelling reached him, the scout barely responded. He had no idea at all, now, if these noises were better or worse than the others. They weren't going to make him move again, were they, not when he was so well numbed up now, and so awfully weary? They weren't going to strike him again, were they, or make more of that painful, ringing, racket, not when he was just finding a quiet place to lay still and … Wait, his battered brain said. There it is again. There's that plaguing, wearisome, fogged in 'reason'. Feeling dizzy again, as somethings seemed to turn him on his back, his wearied mind pushed with it's last bit of will for now and brokenly, he spoke 'the reason'.

'' took … for Jess… want t' … kill … t' kill Jess.'' Coop whispered, in roughly the direction

of these new, softer noises. The new noises and somethings touching him seemed to know what he was saying, what he was talking about. The beaten, half drowned man was no longer sure he knew. But the new, warmer, much less painful sounds around him rose and fell in such a comfortable way, they were surely better, saner, finer, wiser ones than those others.

And now these new sounds had the reason. So, now he could just lay and drift, as if still in

the water. And so he did, or started to do. But a dimming part of his brain was saying there were yet some other, different but vital 'reasons' he needed, very badly to get hold of, to push out of his whirling head, into sounds, because these new, warmer, kindlier sounds also needed them.

He just couldn't remember why that would be; anymore than he recognized, just now, the two men crouching next to him, as men at all, much less as Duke Shannon and Jemmy Singer. And try as he might, the terribly beaten man could only keep hold of one of these other 'reasons' for staying among the whirring sounds and blurred shadows, lights and colors.

'' same… bas.. .ki…killed … Lissa, Teo… said … t' tell…Jem…'' Coop managed to

whisper hoarsely, and fell again, but now into a soft, dark, warm and welcoming quiet.

''Ah, G-d, Coop!'' Jemmy Singer groaned softly, shaking his head as Duke lifted Coop from

the stream as easily and gently as if the chief scout were an infant. '' Why didn't I ride up here yesterday, or a week, or a fortnight ago, Cousin?''

''Coop's going to need all you can do for him now, Doctor Singer.'' Duke advised. '' He's damn lucky they didn't kill him, outright! Damn them! If Gambler hadn't run right into the circle up the way he did… ''

'' Let's not even go there; and please, call me Jemmy. Doctor Singer … was my great uncle, Mister….''

''Jemmy, and its Duke.'' The tall blond scout stopped him. ''Mr. Shannon was my grandfather. Let's get on back. Chris is already pacing. Next Bill will start, and then Charlie!''

''And that would be a bad thing?''

''Really bad, only thing worse would be if Barney, Kate and I all start pacing with 'em.''

translation of Spanish conversation:

Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. Very sorry.

He doesn't understand a word of Spanish, none of the boys here now do. But a mutual friend, Dr. Jemison Singer, whose mother was your mother's cousin, Jessamyn, sent me here to help stop these murderers, and that's what I mean to now, and to go on doing. So do me the very great favor of acting gravely insulted, while I get this said.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE an old mansion, outside Plum Creek, Nebraska, the 1870s

The woman they all worked for, to one degree or another, was far, far less than

pleased with their latest 'endeavor'. Eugenie Isabelle Morrissey Pascale was in fact,

bitterly disappointed with that and with every last one of the men now ranged before her

in more of an anxious, murmuring huddle than the proper ranks she expected. They were waiting for her withering, mocking wrath to descend on them, and thus they dared not address her. She was waiting until they became a lot more than merely anxious; and thus

she said not a word to them.

But while they also dared not look at her, the tall, lithe-framed, silver-grey eyed, silver-

haired widow of General Phillips Napier Pascale was more than content to scrutinize them,

as if she had taken on all the late General's privileges and obligations. And she didn't miss

a single dangling coat button, torn pocket or poorly concealed wad of chewing tobacco on

their persons. But what genuinely unnerved the men, even those who'd known Pascale life-long, was when she abruptly began to stridently laugh at them.

'' Do you have any idea what you resemble, this fine morning, gentlemen?'' she asked,

still laughing. ''No, I didn't think it possible you would. You look, all of you, like nothing

quite so much as a band of battered old scarecrows, gathered, preparatory to being committed to the flames; but still desperately attempting to counterfeit living men,

and worse military officers and gentlemen, and worse still, Confederate officers!'' she

told them, sneering.

''In other words, you look like a collection of errant, ignorant, incredibly deluded fools!

And I must say I cannot begin to grasp how you blasted fools can believe it proper, still believe it well-done of you to show yourselves here in my house, in my home at all, much

less in this state of diverse disrepair, my fine fellows! And I know at least some of you are very well aware that your appearance, your manner and your hygiene would most certainly be considered, by my late, most gallant, most praiseworthy, and most judicious husband, General Phillips Napier Pascale, to be a court martial offense, my good sirs!

Furthermore, if I'm to credit at all the report I received from your hands last evening,

you've proven yourselves far, far worse than mere deluded fools. No, you've gone on from that benighted condition to proving yourselves utterly inadequate to carry out our grand endeavors! You would like, I am well assured, to be, in my estimation, my good sirs, loyal, devoted followers of our beloved, and brilliant Cause. You would like to consider yourselves still as soldiers, as officers serving our barbarously subjugated nation. And you would like,

I am quite certain; to be held up as examples of daring, loyalty and acumen, to those who share our love of that nation, our fair Confederacy, and that Cause, it's bitterly denied, but

still very much alive, in our minds and hearts and psyches, ultimate, inexorable triumph!

Instead, I firmly assure you, if your latest escapades were known in those circles; from

which we draw our initiative, our sustenance, and our inspiration, you would be reviled,

you would be despised and you would be drummed out of your present so-called service!

Needless to say, I shall hold my hand back from sending word on this latest failure, this

latest catastrophe, and this latest fiasco to our friends in the east. I would be too bitterly ashamed to hold my head up in their company, were they to learn of this!

And now I look at you, my good sirs. And instead of that same bitter shame, that same merciless remorse, that same keen compunction, I see not one inkling of realization just

how gravely you have failed our nation, our cause, our beloved General Pascale, and all

the men and boys who fell in their service! And you may well note, I see not one iota of

the proper self-reproach I would have expected from true Southrons, true Confederates,

and true gentlemen-soldiers, when they have so egregiously disheartened as gently bred

a Southron woman as myself! And how that lack of understanding, that lack of shame

could be possible, is quite, quite, I assure you, beyond my own comprehension!''

Now one of the men, the one who had the longest acquaintance of all of them, with the outraged woman stepped forward. This was her only surviving brother, Lee Henry Richard Morrissey. And as he was also her twin, Eugenie Pascale often seemed to some extent kindly disposed towards him and his interventions, even when, as now, she was heartily enjoying

yet another tirade.

''Now, Miss 'genie', ma'am,.'' Morrissey said, soothingly, as though he spoke to a raging, starving lioness. '' in fact, the boys are truly deeply remorseful about this … unanticipated

set-back. And I agree, dear lady, as do the boys here, that such things never should go unanticipated whatsoever. But as you yourself remind us on a commendably regular basis,

we are not renegades, we are not outlaws, brigands or desperadoes.

No, we are a military command. And this command is at war. We are at war with not only

our known, reviled adversaries set at us from Washington's City, but with all those who knowingly or unknowingly impede our grand endeavors. And in this last, highly regrettable, instance, we were clearly far less than adequately supplied with the correct information.

In other words, dear lady, our sources as regards the names on the roll were deceived, deficient or patently deceptive. And that sort of occurrence, my dearest Miss 'genie', must needs fall, at times, under the category of 'the fortunes of war'.''

''In other words, my dearest Lee Henry,'' Pascale said, scowling at him. '' this latest

fiasco potentially could not have been avoided? Well, if that is your belief, brother mine,

I fear you are far, far too forgiving, indulgent and forbearing than I can see fit to be in such

a case! You are after all suggesting, as I understand that in this instance those who allegedly informed us of the man Harper's whereabouts and particulars; either were lied to were incapable of asking the appropriate questions, or they are working to hinder and to deceive us! And you find that an endurable situation? Well, sir, I most certainly do not!''

''I have not said I find that an endurable, or in the least way acceptable situation, sister-

mine. No, I have only said that in some way the lines of communication in this instance

utterly failed us, not these boys, here. Indeed, it was our own, dear Tyler, who went to the trouble of finding out who the most recent person we encountered actually was. If he had not, we would have gone on supposing we'd taken Harper off the roll, not his putative cousin, not this Smith.''

''And just where is this putative cousin, now, Lee Henry? Why was he not brought securely into our hands? Why, instead was this person, who clearly saw a goodly number of our 'boys' here, and who could very easily warn off Harper, simply left behind that day?'' Pascale demanded to know.

'' Because he died there, Miss 'genie'. '' Morrissey answered. '' Therefore we saw no need to bring his remains anywhere at all, much less here. The natural elements and scavengers will have quite taken care of Harper's unfortunate cousin, by this time, surely.''

"Is that so?'' the woman asked, rounding on him, her silvery hair winging to each side of her oval face, looking very much like a scavenger bird herself. '' Or is that merely what you believe to be the case here, brother?''

'' The man **has **died, sister.'' Morrissey nodded, frowning himself, now. '' He's not going to be talking to anyone, now, not anyone this side of Perdition or Glory, much less his cousin. And that being the case, 'genie', dearest, I am uncertain as to why you would ask me such a distrustful question.''

'' Because, brother, because, Lee Henry, dearest, by your own life-long lacksidaisical lack of exactitude and meticulous correctness, you have now shown yourself the biggest fool in this room! Harper's cousin was removed from that streambed, brother. He was carried from there by two men who took him back to the emigrant train he apparently works for. He was taken from that place when you and your forces scattered at the sound of approaching riders, those two approaching riders, no more than two!

And before you try to contradict me, which you would only be doing at your own great peril; he was not conveyed from that site in any way, shape or fashion so as to suggest he had expired! No, brother-mine, instead he was borne from where our dear boys left him, still

alive and with the utmost vigilance and care, with the clear intent to maintain and preserve him so. And all that accurate information was garnered for me, after Solomon had made that

unimaginable error, by my own dear Jaimey and Phillips, not by any of you utterly pathetic fools!''

Solomon Howell, went rigid with anger, hearing himself thus lambasted. Usually, considering her various means and measures, and her monies, the dark eyed, dark-minded murderer in chief for Eugenie Pascale, forbore to react to her fits of temper. This morning though, his pride was stinging sharply with the word that he'd spent an afternoon pummeling nearly to death's door, a man who should never have encountered Howell and company! Now, to hear this proud, persistently challenging, provoking, altogether maddening Texan had somehow survived the beating Howell so gladly gave him, was insupportable!

And the widow of the man Howell would have ridden into Perdition for, had the equally insufferable gall to suggest that Solomon Howell turned tail and ran from perceived danger like a white-tailed deer, no, like a yellow bellied Yankee! Last and worst of all, to Howell's mind, this lunatic female dared imply that a pair of darkies, her pair of mulatto house 'boys' her 'own dear Jaimey and Phillips', had done a better job for the company and it's endeavors than he, himself!

'' Missus Pascale, ma'am.'' Howell spat her name. '' If you were a man, I should call you out and that, immediately for impugning my character, my exertions and my courage. As you are a lady, however, I will merely, with all the respect I believe is warranted, request your kind permission, to quit your employ, as of the present instant, ma'am.''

Eugenie Pascale turned now, and in doing so, slowly turned her wide, silvery-grey gaze from Morrissey to Howell. He was a dangerously wild-tempered fellow, so her late husband had admitted, but thoroughly loyal, absolutely committed to their mutual goals. And he did amuse her, at times like this, by displaying a manic, almost antique sense of ante bellum personal honor. And he was neither a sane nor a stable enough man to safely let out of one's grasp.

So, she shook her head and smiled, the latter action meant to soften the former.

'' But I will not permit that, Solomon, my dear man. As Lee Henry points out this is a military situation, to be handled in just that way and no other. You and your cohort can and will muster out, as I believe the phrase is, when this situation is wholly, and entirely resolved, and not so much as an instant before that glorious hour arrives. That, after all was the agreement made upon your enlistment with the late General, my husband. And nothing, including his sad passing has ensued to in any way abrogate the sacred oaths you took, then.

However, as a Southron gentlewoman, I deeply respect the standards you hold yourself too, and which you expect others to maintain as well. Therefore I would beg the favor of your allowing me to rescind any remarks that seemed offensive to you, just then. No doubt, as

Lee Henry pointed out, in this instance, regarding Harper's cousin, we all were deprived of

the correct information, and thus, whether intentionally or otherwise, deceived. Perhaps

some small effort should be expended now, to determine whether we were consciously, deliberately lied to, or not. Might I just possibly ask you to undertake such an effort for

our company, Solomon?''

'' Missus Pascale, ma'am, I would have done so, I would surely have undertaken that mission, with your permission, of course, ma'am; even if you had not made so cordial a request.''

Howell told her, and bowed from the waist, as was only proper when a lady acted like a lady and treated a gentleman as he should be treated.

The woman was patently insane; he knew that. And that bothered Howell not a whit. His commitment, his oath, as she herself noted, had been made to the late General, and

to the now extinct Confederate States of America. Solomon Howell would not, and indeed considered he could not, in truth, rescind that oath from anyone except General Pascale himself. And their next encounter would be, whether in Glory or in Perdition, it mattered not, the gunman believed, a long time in coming. He had however made his point and received her attention, her awareness of his own genteel sensibilities. That would suffice, Solomon Howell now decided, once more, until and unless her rages and her contempt for the men of the company, drove them all into the jaws of disaster.

''Very well, then.'' Pascale smiled like a belle at her beaux. '' Gentlemen, please do excuse me, now. I have my morning ride to take, although with some melancholy; recollecting as I always do, our dearest General's long habit of insisting he accompany me.

Ah, Napier, dearest, there you are! And you managed a leave for our dearest Neddy, too!'' she now exclaimed, looking towards the great main threshold of the old mansion, looking at her house servants, Jaimey and Phillips Johnston, but seeing in their place, what no one else present could see.

''How very glad I am to have you both with me this gorgeous morning! Let us go riding, my dears, at once, while it is still so cool and fresh out of doors. Neddy, you know very well I shall not permit you to ride in the heat of the day, my dearest. You are as susceptible as momma was to such extreme exertion. And I fear, no, Neddy, I do, I seriously fear we may be facing another long, sweltering afternoon. And Napier, how very lovely of you to surprise me by getting our Neddy home! We must most certainly have a grand celebration, a week of parties, just like in the fine old days! Please do tell: How long are my two most favorite, most heroic gentlemen callers permitted to stay with me, this time?''

The mulattos only nodded and as long since ritualized, each held out an arm to Pascale. Beaming and chattering like a girl at her coming-out, Eugenie Pascale walked with her most constant of companions, onto the portico of the old house. The men behind her now knew from past observation of this ritual the general's widow had entirely forgotten them. But only a handful of them knew that instead of the two manservants, Pascale now genuinely believed herself to be walking between the darkly handsome, stalwart figure of her 'dearest General', and the classically fair, striking form of her younger brother, Edward Robert Denys Morrissey.

When that bizarre trio was well out of view and out of ear's range as well, Lee Henry Morrissey

turned to put one hand on Howell's shoulder, and one, to Howell's renewed annoyance, on

'Tyler Pierce'/ Teo Bracamante's shoulder as well.

''Well, Sol, that was a near thing, a very near thing indeed. And I know you sometimes

believe that our 'genie' deliberately seeks to provoke you. But having known her, life-long,

I can assure you again, my friend that she merely enjoys a fine, high rage or two. It seems

to get her blood up, and her mental processes as well.. Well, it does on most occassions. You handled the matter like a Southron gentleman, and I am grateful for that, as are we all.

And as you might imagine, old friend, I have another favor to ask, before you take up your 'mission' as regards our misinformant. I ask, Solomon, and I expect you to comply with

my request, rather than my putting it in terms of an order, that you immediately drop your wholly unwarranted suspicions of Tyler, here. We must be at war only with our foes, with

our quite genuine and very determined adversaries, gentlemen, not within our own cohort. Do I have your compliance with this essential request, Solomon, or must I contradict myself and issue it as an order?''

'Pierce' said nothing, keeping his lean features and his wide dark eyes impassive. He'd been asking Morrissey to mediate the feud Howell seemed to want with him for months now. The tension this second in command to Morrissey liked to create was bad for the group, yes, but even worse for a spy in their midst, like Teo.

And the roiling madness Teo Bracamante had reluctantly watched Howell unleash on Cooper Smith, nearly six days ago now, was a real peril to them all, killers and targets alike. Teo

had taken months to solidify his place amongst these maniacs, to learn which ones were immovably committed to their murderous 'endeavors' and which were beginning to be uneasy with them. Howell's inherent distrust of most of the world, although quite legitimate now, was a threat to everything Teo was attempting to do; his assignment being to drive however many rifts, and sow as many seeds of discord between these killers as was humanly possible. It was a threat, unless, the Creole had begun to consider, he could use Howell's narrow focus on those he hated and mistrusted to further alienate some of 'the Company' from him, perhaps even Morrissey! [ Si, that just might turn the trick here! ]

'' Pardon, por favor, Senor Lee Henry, I believe we need not ask Senor Solomon anything of that nature. He is a fine, natural leader, second only to yourself in my own humble estimation, at least. I have no wish to create contention or conflict within the Company. [Well, **that **was a big enough lie to take me straight to confession, next chance I get!] Teo thought and swallowed a laugh.

''And it may be I've misconstrued or miscomprehended Senor Solomon's naturally strong, suspicions of the younger men here; those who, like myself, did not serve with General Pascale. I shall always, of course greatly regret not having that same tremendous opportunity. Clearly, I should have tried to understand his motives. Surely Senor Solomon only wishes the Company's success and nothing more. That being the case, I should absolutely make you my most sincere apologies, Senor Solomon, and so I do, sir.''

[ Teo, you're turning into an awfully talented liar. Has someone been giving you grifting lessons on the side? ] the Creole could imagine Jemmy Singer laughing.

''Well, Senor Solomon?'' Morrissey asked, with a taut half grin on his saturnine features.

''What do you say to such a gentlemanly offer as that?''

''I say I'm the one to be trusted more than anyone else here, second only to you, Lee Henry.'' Howell scowled, sneering. '' And anyone who thinks I have any motives other than the Company's success just hasn't been paying good enough attention! And I say, except for finding persons of interest, names on the roll from N'Orleans and maybe from some parts of Texas; I don't begin to figure what we're doin' with Spics like him and Matty in the Company, to begin with! Bad enough Miss 'genie' can't do without her damn nosey, bothersome darkies! But I don't do the recruitin' around here, now do I?''

Teo/Tyler felt his backbone stiffen and pushed down both his shoulders and a very strong

urge to drive his fist into Howell's thin face, and scrawny gut, several times, with no small force. But he held his arm and his voice and his outwardly calm demeanor. This he had seen and was learning to copy from the words, actions and impassive countenance Jemmy Singer nearly always showed under pressure.

''But, Solomon, my old friend, in this case…'' Morrissey prompted, with a cold glance that brooked no further challenges.

''But Lee Henry, my old friend, in this case, and at your particular request, I will, as a Southron gentleman, accept Senor Pierce's proffered apologies. And that's all I'm ever gonna say on the subject.'' Howell answered, turned on his heel and strode away, back towards the back of the old house and the stables behind it.

Once again 'Pierce' said nothing, waiting as was proper in an officer, for his commander to initiate or stop any further conversation.

''He's got quite the temper, ol' Senor Solomon does, Ty. And quite the mouth on him, as well. I suppose it's something I've simply gotten used to, after all this while. It's likely wrong of me to allow him so much leeway, I suppose. '' Morrissey mused.

''And despite your fine, well mannered, offered and shoddily accepted apologies, I remain well pleased you brought your concerns to me, my lad. We are a tiny, tiny force here. And we have enemies by the hundreds, yes even by the thousands, enough to kill us all a few thousand times over. And if they are not yet, I do not see how it can be long before they are ranged against us.

We should not be distracted, as my old friend sometimes seems, with needlessly rattling the nerves of our cohort. You handled yourself as a gentleman must, just then, Ty, as a true hidalgo. So, even though I must press on to our next destination, I tell you in the utmost solemnity, Tyler, I wish you to continue bringing, or if need be, sending me word of any further dissension within the cohort. Will you accept that as a private commission from me, my lad?''

''Senor Padron Morrissey, in all candor, I'd far rather travel with you. However, I am greatly honored, Senor. '' Tyler/Theo said, falling back on his native tongue as though too moved to speak in any other. '' Me honran altamente, Senor, y continuare lo mas ciertamente possible mis esfuerzos aquí, agradezco a te, thank you, sir, for your kind words and your confidences. They are in no way insignifant to me, sir. I hold them very dear, sir

''Gracias, muy gracias.'' Morrissey answered, reminding Teo that he was fluently multi-lingual.

''Oh, and one thing more, Tyler lad, I know that our Miss 'genie' and our Solomon, to a great extent were not genuinely concerned that the cohort detained and had some words with a person not strictly among those in whom we retain our central interest. I've known them

both so long I know they no longer seem to have a very pragmatic perspective on matters such as whether or not that young Smith should have been detained at all, or assaulted

.But I for one was not displeased to know that someone we have no interest in at all did not in fact die at our hands. That's of course supposing he's survived thus far. I don't want Solomon or any of the Company facing the gallows for a killing in cold blood, such as we have never in fact intended.

That sort of indifferent , almost random killing, no, that seems to me comes far too close to turning the Company into what we must never be, Tyler: outlaws, desperados, renegades, or worse, mere roaming brigands. And I tell you this, Lad , because I feel you have the properly gentlemanly understanding to take it in, that you may even share my opinions. I don't know that I could say the same for most the lads here. They are all good, devoted lads, of course. I know that. I've entrusted them, after all, with my dear sister's safety and well being, not to say her good name. ''

''Senor, if I may be so … if I may, once more, speak to you with the same candor you always show to me…'' Teo said, wondering what Morrissey was trying to tell him.

''Please do, Ty. I'm not looking forward to the next long leg of my travels. I'm not therefore in any sort of hurry. ''

''Gracias, Senor. Clearly some of the younger men here, Senor, Rand , Dev, Matty, young Phillipsen and Miller, do not have your years of perspective. They have largely come to the cohort seeking to vent their energies and their frustrations with the world as it is, since the Conflict. They are willing to take orders, and they are wholly devoted to you, Senor. Some of them, I believe may carry a different sort of devotion, no disrespect intended, Senor, towards your sister. She has a very … dynamic spirit, which greatly impresses young men at a certain point in their lives. And of course, young Jaimey and Phillips would gladly lay down their lives for 'Miss Eugenie.

The others, however, Brady, Tanner, Hoynes, Stewart, and in one sense, el senors Adamson, Geronne and Montagu very well understand the true goals, the founding purpose of

this Company. And, Senor, like myself, they share it. We are here because we must seek

out justice, we must right the wrongs done our friends and brothers in arms, and we must

set matters to rights, once more. And we are, Senor, unwavering in our intention to carry those goals, and that purpose to its only right conclusion.

O, pardon, Senor, I would of course add that your young son, young senor Eduardo, as we would call him in my home parish, is utterly in agreement with those objectives. He will do whatever is asked, go wherever he must, and take on any responsibility you may choose

to give him, as regards the Company, as regards these grand endeavors. And, Senor, I

myself would deem it a tremendous honor, should you allow me to befriend and keep

watch for young senor Morrissey, when you are …when you are called away, Sir. In that

way, you would need have no misgivings in his regard, Senor.''

'' He can be somewhat overeager, and importunate, at times. And well I know it . Tyler , that's why, instead of asking for your quite enjoyable company on my impending journey westward, I have agreed to take Neddy with me. And I would rather he not continue his

near infatuation with our Solomon's more brutal means and measures. I was not well pleased, and I've told our zealous Solomon this, to learn that Neddy took an integral part in the last two most recent endeavors.

My son will not, if I can only intervene in time, grow into a killer who does his bloody work

for the sport of it. I'd send him to the Sahara in Africa, the Gobi in the Orient or to the Alaskan Artic if need be to prevent that! But I believe some time with his old father may stem that particularly worrisome tide. Thank you for your kind words, Ty, lad. And thank you for your most kind offer. I will most certainly accept it. I do fear for Neddy, Tyler. I surely do.

He was young boy, when the Conflict raged, and so, like the other lads here, my son has

little real understanding of the destitution, terrible losses, the constant mourning, the privation, and the ignominy his homeland suffered. These boys here, they listen so avidly to our old war stories. And I know they find them exciting, or worse yet, highly romantic!

And how can they understand, except by their own griefs and losses, their own sufferings and sacrifices what truly motivates men such as you and I? And I cannot wholly spare Neddy that learning. But I must try, as a father, surely I am within my rights to seek some measure of protection for my only surviving child, the only real legacy our family has to take into the future.'' Morrissey said, his words, and his confidences amazing the Creole.

'' Si, Senor, that is no more than any father would wish to do.'' Teo agreed.

'' Yes, yes, any father… You're right, of course. And Neddy had.. you won't know this, and

I'm not sure he fully recalls it, three older brothers, three, Tyler, I once had four healthy, thriving, eager, and truly valiant sons. Daniel, Jeremy, Andrew and Lee Edward. Danny,

Jere,and Drew went off to that … Boy's Conflict… and never returned. Now, I have only the youngest, only Neddy… And I suppose that only serves to make me feel that much older,

that much more mortal. Thank you, once more, Tyler. I think you must have had a very

wise father or grandfather yourself to be so compassionate towards a young man you have

no … obligation to. Thank you. I must get to my travel preparations now. Miss 'genie' doesn't at all appreciate my genteel, unrushed manner. Good day, lad and I thank you.''

''De nada, Senor Padron. De nada.'' Teo answered, as the older man, who'd often

seemed just as zealous, just as keen for the 'measures' taken by the Company as

Howell, Adamson, Montagu, Geronne or Pascale, strode back up the mansion's central

grand staircase.

_Was he becoming disillusioned, now? Was he going to disavow the cohort and his old_

_friend, and his sister, as well as their grand endeavors? Or was he only wearied, and_

_rightly in some fear, as he said, for young Neddy? I would be, to see my son start to_

_hero-worship a lunatic like Howell! And this mistaken attack on this Texan was this truly a watershed, a turning point for these ardent killers? Had they themselves created the fissure that would tear the cohort apart once and for all, thus ending their plans, schemes and endeavors? No more honor amongst murderers, surely exists, than among thieves. Are the_

_Morrisseys, old and young, the keys that unlock the floodgates on their 'Company'?_

_Stay alive, young Texan. I had no chance to do more than prevent your murder. I had no _

_time to tell you of much more than my own connection to Jemmy Singer. I didn't' even _

_call you by your right name, Cooper Smith. I couldn't. Not when you were clearly more than ready to take the blows meant for your cousin._

_Now that was some kind of muy__ loco,__ too, amigo! Or maybe not. Maybe you realized as well as I did, that you could still end up dead in that streambed, no matter who these murderers thought you were. That was a great mistake on Howell's part. He knew and he knows now that your murder or rather, Harper's was nowhere in his orders. Howell's a born killer; and clearly has come too far, waded in too much blood by this time to have any scruples or any control at all over his killing rages._

_Stay alive. I'd very much like to talk to you about what kind of crazy man takes an almost fatal beating for his cousin! Maybe I just have too many dozens and scores of cousins to truly understand that kind of willing forfeit. And my cousin, Matty, well, he's more like my brother, so I think he knows I'd do the same for him. But that whole melee at the stream, Smith, you might not believe me if I said you got off lucky._

_Because, like Senor Padron Morrissey says, that was a near thing, Texan, a very near thing. And you don't want to know what was in the cards for you, if 'Senor Solomon' held his temper and actually followed orders! I know you could tell 'our dear Miss 'genie' is as plain crazy as _

_they come. What you don't know is what she meant in saying she'd see you again, but you wouldn't likely see her. And you don't want to know, amigo. _

_She is likely the most dangerously insane woman I've ever encountered. She and Howell, Geronne, Adamson and Montagu, they are the ones who must be stopped! All the others, I come to believe would not have lifted a finger against their string of 'targets' without their driving force. And your survival, your recollections, your words will put the quietus at last _

_to that. Stay alive a month, or two, at the least. You saw almost half their faces, and heard their voices. I don't doubt you remember very well the men who were well on their way to murdering you outright! So, stay alive, Texan, if only to exercise your perfect right to send Solomon Howell to a gibbet. Stay alive, Cooper Smith._


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN Plum Creek, Nebraska on the North Platte River, the 1870s

[ Stay alive, Coop. Just stay alive. ] Chris Hale thought fiercely at the all too quiet man on

the bed before him. [ That's all I'm … No, that's not all I'm asking you to do, right now, my friend. I'm also going to insist you wake up open your eyes, look at me, hear my voice, and know who I am, in pretty much that order. Then, we can move on to little things like being able to walk, talk and stay awake when you want to. But first you really need to wake up. We need…No, make that I need to finish the conversation we dropped like a ton of bricks when Lissa Burke was found dead…found murdered. And that, my friend, seems like an eon ago, when in fact it's been less than a month, since then!]

The Wagonmaster dry scrubbed at his tired grey eyes and weary face in general. But he didn't and he hadn't taken his eyes off the scout for more than an instant, since Duke carried Coop back into the circle-up, both of them on Duke's own big chestnut gelding. It was easy enough to tell Coop's 'Gambler' from Duke Shannon's 'Soldier', a subtle increase in height, and a broad white blaze on Soldier's handsome face marked him out, just as Gambler's red gold mane and tail, a strip of white on his face, and lack of any stockings, did him. What wasn't easy a bit was seeing Coop, lolling like a rag doll or a broken puppet in the younger, taller scout's grasp.

[ And that was nearly a week ago! ] Hale mentally scolded the scarily still and soundless Texan. [ So what, you ask? So, it's about time you stopped lollygagging there! Don't you think we've all got better things to do just now than stand around while you malinger? No, apparently you don't think that for a minute. But I do, Coop! I do! You're not even much for imagined conversations, are you? So, I'm standing here, talking to myself, am I? Going dottier than Charlie, you are, that's what, old man! Going positively … ]

''Chris?'' a clear, carrying young voice called out, and Hale had to stop himself from jumping, just before he realized Jemmy Singer stood in the open doorway of this sickroom, in this small hospice, in the small town of Plum Creek. ''Are you alright? Chris?''

'' I'm not your patient, Jemmy lad.'' Hale answered. ''I'm fine… No, not fine, but … alright, I guess. I think Coop might be sleeping… It's gotten so I'm not sure I can tell.''

''So, you're not my patient, not yet, is what you mean to say? Well, you just might be one

of these days, real soon now; you're that exhausted. And it won't help …'' Singer shook his head, already aware of how stubborn this New Englander could be.

'' It won't help Coop a bit if I collapse? Is that what you were going to tell me?''

'' Prett much. Could I at least get you to sit down a spell, have some soup, some bread,

some good strong black-Irish 'tae'? You know the kind I mean, Chris. You can just about stand a spoon up in, that strong it is.'' Jemmy smiled at the man he was coming to respect and like more each day.

''What are you now, my mother?'' Chris complained, looking back over at Coop.

''Hardly. I'd imagine she's gone to Glory quite some long time, now. Now, let's see if the boyyo truly is asleep or no.'' Jemmy walked to the bedside, and leaning over, gently opened Coop's eyes one at a time, checking for the size of his pupils, the clarity of his cornea, and a couple other less significant tell tales. That done, the Carolinian checked his cousin's pulse, his skin temperature, and the splint immobilizing the Texan's left arm, to let his collarbone do it's own knitting.

''Well?'' Chris asked, a thousand questions in the single word.

''Well, he's not asleep, exactly. And he's not wholly unconscious either. This is good news, Chris. This is a change for the better. Try not to look so shocked, no matter what I tell you.

It'll be good practice for when Coop's fully awake and aware again. He won't be able to miss that long face you've been wearing. ''

'' He won't, you say. When he's fully awake and aware, you say. And you see a real potential for all that, just by looking at Coop's eyes and checking his pulse?''

'' Actually, yes, I do. His pulse is less erratic than it was a few days ago. It's growing stronger, in fact. His eyes are clear as daylight, and very well reactive to the light in here, I 'd add. He's not going to follow my finger or the light in here, just yet. But there's no reason to believe

he won't, again, as I said, when he's aware of his surroundings, again. There have been, as well, strong indications that his hearing has not been impaired in the least, not that we really expected it would be. I'd add that even though it was in a delirium, when his fever spiked the other evening, Coop clearly showed he can talk as well as ever. But…'' Jemmy paused, and seemed to be scrutinizing Hale as closely as he'd done Coop the moment before.

'' But what? What are you leaving out of that extraordinarily optimistic prognosis?'' Chris demanded.

'' I'm afraid …'' Jemmy shook his head and went quiet.

''Jemmy!'' Hale exclaimed, his nerves well past 'taut'.

'' He'll never play the violin again.'' Jemmy cracked wise, his trademark daylight bright grin stretching across his sharp features.

'' Well that's a relief at least!'' Duke Shannon laughed, as he joined them.

''You two have a truly bizarre sense of humor.'' Hale protested. '' But I suppose you know that.''

''We know, Chris.'' the guilty parties chorused, grinning.

'' And I'm… before you both say it, well and truly exhausted. And I still need to talk to you, Mr. Shannon and your other three far- roving colleagues. Where are they?''

''Downstairs, Chris.'' Duke told him. '' We thought we could talk, like you said; while we got some supper, at that dining hall across the way.''

''Bring me back some soup, will you, fellows?'' Jemmy asked, as innocently as a child, although Hale was sure he'd been benevolently conspired against, again.

'' Alright, I will go to supper.'' Chris agreed. '' I'll go just as soon as this exceedingly sanguine Tar Heel and I have a more substantive conversation. My regards to the crew, Duke, I'll be there as soon as I can. ''

'' Yes, sir.'' Duke nodded. He knew pretty well when Hale's expression and tone of voice allowed leeway for joshing and when it didn't. It didn't at all, right now. The blond scout left the way he'd come. Jemmy glanced at Coop again, then claimed the window seat at the front of the sickroom. A rocker next to it had been Hale's self appointed post for most of six days, now. Chris claimed the rocker and raised one eloquent eyebrow in Jemmy's direction.

The young doctor sighed and shook his head '' Chris, I'm not exaggerating anything, here. Why in the very devil would I? Coop's recovering and yes, we're damnably lucky that's so.

But I told you, that very first night I had no other real expectation. And nothing's happened

to change my mind on that score, well, nothing now that his fever's broken. I admit now that

got me worried. And I admitted as much at the time.''

'' Yes, you did. And I'm sorry, in a way to be such an old curmudgeon. But in another way, Jemmy, I'm not one bit sorry. I bear a vast responsibility to that young man. And its one

he doesn't **even know** about, yet!'' Chris frowned, one strong hand fisted below his chin.

''And frankly, I can't quite bring myself to joke, not quite yet, about Coop's recovery. No,

not quite yet, I can't. I haven't seen a young, healthy man come as close to passing as

Coop did, each of the first two nights we had him back, not since the War. So, I'm not quite sure how you can be so calm and collected, my young doctor friend, unless of course you're shamming.''

'' Sh!'' Jemmy exclaimed in a stage whisper. '' Nobody who's not a doctor is supposed to know we do that! But you came prett close to being one, didn't you? Didn't you work in field hospitals during the War?''

'' I did. A lot of people did, who wanted to be doing something, then. And so, you were pretending … ''

'' No. That's not what I meant. Let's start over, shall we? Of course, you're right, Coop nearly died those first two horrid nights, those first three awful days. And I was terrified he would. And I couldn't help him, or you, his closest friends while letting that terror run me. That's

what I meant. But I'm sure you saw through it, anyway. My partner, Adam Morgan's the most gifted actor I know. In fact he could likely fool the sun into rising in the west, if he put his ingenious mind to it, but it's not my forte. So, what else, what more can I tell you, Chris, that might set your mind at ease?''

'' You've said more than once you don't find and don't expect to find any trouble Coop could have with his eyes, with his vision. But, there's something I haven't found the time to tell you. And it's why I'm not as confident as you, about that, just for starters. Three years ago, Coop's face and eyes were burned in an explosion. And for something like a month, maybe a little more, there was nothing to be done, once the burns were treated as well as they ever could be. There was nothing to be done, that is, but wait to find out if he had been blinded. And I think it truly marked Coop, simply the not knowing for weeks if he would see again, or not.

He had a rough time of it, then.

And now, as I've understood from you, he sustained a skull fracture, in the process of nearly being murdered. And Jemmy, I'm no doctor, but I've seen a lot of head injuries in my time. And so this is what truly … scares me, now. The way a man can take an injury like Coop's

and walk away from it, seemingly, absolutely fine; and drop down dead weeks or months later; and the way a man can be injured in this way, and there's no way at all to tell what's been damaged inside his skull, what effects he may suffer or when they'll appear. So, when I saw Coop that first night, and he was bleeding not just from his nose and mouth, but his ears as well… '' Chris stopped and shook his head, not able to get the rest of his thought out.

'' You were certain sure there was little or no hope for Cooper at that point.'' Jemmy finished.

''And that's where all my med school reading can actually come in handy. That bleeding from his ears helped us, Chris. It helped by very nearly pinpointing where his skull was fractured.

And the fact is, we're learning more all the time, with about a thousand years more of learning we could do, yet, about what injuries in different parts of the head, the skull will end up doing.

But before I go on with that part of this. The other thing you need to know is that Coop's past head injuries; including the burns you described won't have a cumulative effect. And especially in the case of injuries as different as burns and blows to the head. They're apples and oranges. They don't, and they can't build on each other.

So, in this case, this time, what I've learned is that Coop's likely to have some memory loss on a temporary basis, that's one effect, caused by the brain moving sharply within the skull. He's likely to have some bad headaches and dizziness for a time. I'd be surprised if he didn't, in fact. But I'm as sure as I can be without being able to look inside Coop's head that he must have somehow moved or shifted away from the object delivering that blow to the back of his head, and thus received a much less damaging blow.

And what I was saying earlier, Chris are some of the reasons I think that's true. Coop could have had some vision problems, almost immediately, he's had none. He could have had some temporary hearing loss, he's had none of that, either. And he's not been wholly unconscious for more than an hour or two at a time, since we found him. His speech, as I said hasn't been affected, either.

All these things tell me Coop's brain is functioning almost entirely as it should, considering the punishment he and it took. And the skull will knit itself with time, just as any other bone will. Other than that, you know that Coop's left collarbone was broken, his lower right leg as well; and he's got every sort of bump, bruise, welt and contusion known to man on him right now. He definitely has some badly broken ribs, too. Those very likely led to a partial collapse of his right lung, the second night.

And that was scary, I agree. Cooper was suddenly having a lot of pain, not just difficulty breathing, a lot of pain with it. That told me air that should have been circulating in his lungs and chest, had leaked into the pleural cavity between the lungs and the chest wall. And that's when I asked you and Duke to hold Coop still, while I drew that air out of where it shouldn't have been with a syringe. I've seen no signs since that night of the same kind of difficulty, much less the same level of pain with his breathing.

Last on my list, and this the one is really what I've been watching Coop for the least sign of

in the past few days, is the real possibility he sustained damage to his liver, there may be bruising of one the lobes, there may be tearing, or an abscess may have formed. And with

all of those we're definitely looking at a real threat of infection. But, in Cooper's case, I don't yet know if he has any liver damage.

However, I also know a procedure, a technique you may not have heard of. It's one I learned on my last visit to the Sorbonne, in fact, that can and does work to get rid of a liver abscess. It's fairly simple in fact, the physician takes a rather fine and long-needled syringe and instead of injecting something, draws the contents of the abscess out. And as always in medical schools, and especially for courses on surgical methods, I've watched one, more than one, in fact, more like a dozen, of these procedures, I've assisted at several and I've performed them on my own.''

''So, what are these signs of damage to Coop's liver that you're watching for?'' Chris asked, in such a quiet tone that Jemmy realized the older man understood the dangers involved more than he wished to. '' And how will you know you need to do this… procedure, how will you know if Coop has an abscess on his liver?''

'' External bruising is the first, but considering how bruised up Cooper is, that could be hard

to differentiate. a marked lack of appetite that can get to the point of purging, is another. Then there's what we'd called referred pain, meaning its pain arising from an internal source, manifesting as discomfort, or outright pain in the entire quadrant of the body where the involved organ resides.

For the liver, that's the upper right quadrant. And lastly, swiftly increasing chills and a spiking fever, which are prett sure markers for infection. And well as to your last question, Chris, I'd feel for an abscess, I'd see if I can palpate one, and get an idea of which lobe of the liver it's attached to. Did you have a particular reason for asking that question?'' Jemmy asked the Wagonmaster.

'' Yes, I did. And I'll tell you what that is in just a moment. But first of all, Jemmy, you've given me quite a laundry list of troubles and potential troubles for our young firebrand over there. So I need to ask, you, why you're not sitting there looking as worried, no, make that looking as scared as I feel, right this minute?'' the Wagonmaster demanded to know.

The young doctor smiled as reassuringly as he knew how, which was considerably, and nodded, answering Hale. ''Because all of Cooper's injuries, are ones that will heal on

their own, given enough time. And that's including the potential outcomes I've just

described to you, from blunt force trauma to his liver, meaning the beating he took to

his upper right quadrant. A smallish abscess will often resolve on its own. Coop's vigorous good health, is a lot in our favor. He's actually doing most of the fighting for us, for himself. We all do, when we're sick or injured, it's just not on any sort of conscious level. So, now, about your other question?''

Chris sighed and shook his head wearily. '' Jemmy, almost as soon as we met, you and I agreed not to discuss any further my old acquaintance with Coop's family, your family. Well,

I can't keep to that agreement now; not and do what is patently my duty here. So here it is:

I was warmly befriended by both Coops' parents, years and years ago, and through them I met your own, and young Jess' parents, as well. And so, when Coop was born, I came down to Raleigh, to I think it was your great-uncle's beautiful, old home there, And at Danny and Beth's adamant 'appeal I became Coop's g-dfather. Well, my old friends are gone now, all

of Coop's immediate family, is gone.

And now, I've been presented rather soundly with the fact that I have to do for Coop what I swore I would do, stand in place of Danny… of his father, who was my dear, dear friend. That being the case, since, just at the moment, Coop can't … speak for himself, I'm giving you my full permission to take any and all measures needed. Not that I think you wouldn't do so, not at all, my friend. I … just needed to tell you.''

''Thanks, Chris.'' Jemmy said with a quiet smile, '' I'm honored to have your confidence, truly.

Now, one last point, before I let you think I'm completely naïve, medically speaking. Right now, despite all that Cooper's endured, time is still on our side, in our favor, in many ways. And it's against us, in another. And because you know my cousin as well as you do, Chris,

you must surely know what my nightmare has been, once I felt sure I understood all I can about what's going on with Cooper. It's how to get my obdurate cousin Cooper to give us, to give himself, really, the time he has to have for all these healing processes to take hold, to take root and do their incredible work. And looking at you, Chris, I see you know exactly what I mean!''

'' I most certainly do!'' Chris found himself almost laughing. '' That young rapscallion, as

soon as he thinks he's able to do anything but lay there, will become his own worst enemy. And I've fought that particular fight with all three scouts I've worked with. They're strong, independent young men who, despite sharing a fair amount of common sense when it comes to trails, Indians, rifles, horses, weather and all that, have none whatsoever as regards themselves and their own well-being! And knowing that for certain sure is the reason I've taken a decision. The train leaves tomorrow or the next day. But without me. I'm staying

right here, until that Texas born black Irish magnet for disaster and I can ride up the trail

and get back to work, again. ''

''And that's what you're getting ready to tell the fellows?''

'' Yes, and they're … well, I don't know how they're going to take it. But my mind's made up. They should know by now it won't be changed by means of arguments. You've got yourself another pair of very willing, helping hands, Jemmy. And they're all getting promotions, for the foreseeable.''

''Well, congratulate them all for me, especially Barney. He's been a genuine trooper through all this.''

'' That I will, Jemmy lad. That I will.'' Hale said and with one glance at his chief scout, strode away from the sickroom.

Jemmy turned to watch the man on the bed and sighed.

''Cousin, you know that New Englander Irishman better than I. So don't be surprised if he comes back in here and sits on you, to keep you from doing for yourself! Not only that, Cooper, but I'll be more than glad to help Chris do just that and whatever more it takes!

You could have died, Cousin, and seeing what I saw that day, its prett clear those maniacs would still have just left you there, if you had done!

You and I have talked about this, how many times since I came back down to Nacogdoches when your momma passed on? Cousin Beth was … absolutely, absolutely the best, Coop!

But you know that. That time it was just a good distraction for us, from grieving our loss.

We talked for hours, and hours, that couple of weeks, you and I and Jess. And of course a

lot of it was we'd hardly seen one another since … spring of '61, when we all had such hard choices to make.

So we sat and jawed, we got completely falling down drunk, and we even snuck behind the stables to smoke a pipe or a cigar, just like when we were boys. But none of us were boys by then, not anymore. And we talked about the boys who weren't coming home. You just barely managed to talk to Jess and me about Jeff. Jess talked to us about the prison camp he was taken to. I talked to both of you about the field hospitals and the receiving ones, and the ambulances… all that. I probably did most of the talking, like always.

And I shared my worst nightmare from the War with both you and Jess. The same one I'm having again, now, this week! I wake up hoarse with shouting, with screaming from it, Coop. It's all about boys who we all saw march for miles on end, in good order, at a good pace, leaving a battlefield; and simply dropped down dead when a halt was finally called or they reached the camps. Not a mark on them that we could find, which meant either deep internal injuries or just plain killing exhaustion of their minds and bodies and spirits killed them where they stood!

And it's all about the other boys, the ones who left limbs or blood or half themselves on

those killing fields! And it's all about the boys who made it to the hospitals, recovered,

got back their strength and marched back to the damn firing lines and died! And I'd help send them back, Cousin, that was a big part of my work in those days! And it shouldn't have, I shouldn't have let it, but it broke my heart, Cooper, every last time!

Well, you don't get to break my heart, Cousin. And I mean it. I'll shackle you to that bed, before I let you up and going again… too soon. Because that's what will do for you, Cooper.

It will. So, you're going to be really furiously angry with me, for a time, Cousin. I know that. I'm ready for that. What I'm not ready for is burying my best friend-cousin. And I know you, Nathaniel Kieran Cooper Smith, I know what you're most going to want to do is go after the bloody lunatics who took you for Jess.

Well, rest easy on that score, Cousin. I've got some friends working on stopping those madmen in their tracks. And you likely saw one or two of them, standing with those killers; but only because they're spying on them. In fact, I'm wondering now if Rand or Matty, or my young friend Chris, maybe even that muy loco y muy valiente Teo, didn't somehow manage to send Gambler runnin' back to the train?

And, yes, I've sent Jess word of what he needs to look out for. Haven't heard back, of course. When did Jess ever write a letter? Speaking of Jess, you do know that young hothead is going to have a few choice words for you, right, Coop? He won't exactly 'cotton' to the idea that you let those maniacs go on thinking you were Jess Harper, a man they want to kill!

Well, I'll leave that for you and Jess to hash out, Cousin. Just open your eyes, start practicing opening your eyes on your own, Coop. You were doing it the other day, the other night. I don't think what you saw then exactly registered with you. Your fever was still spiking. But if we're really, really lucky, Cousin, you won't have another fever. And I think we've been damnably lucky, so far, touch wood, as Mac Macquillan likes to say. Yes, he's another Irishman. You'd like him, so would your friend Chris Hale, as Mac's from Boston.

But you haven't bothered opening those blue eyes, the ones you always had girls mooning over, not in a couple days now. And what I truly think is the reason, is you're just being plumb lazy. Got yourself a chance to lay around, doin' next to nothing, and you're eating it up like Granpa Nate's hard candies! And yes, I did give that 'exceedingly sanguine' prognosis to your friend… our friend Chris, just then and I meant it. But you need to put your shoulder to the wheel, right along with us, now. Alright, if you don't feel like looking at my ugly mug right now, just talk to me, Cooper! So, get to it, Cousin! C'mon now, say something!''

'' some…thin' … hey, Jem! Jem!… where'd …you pop … from? Teo…Teo .. Gam… Gamb ler back. Smacked him … a good one … Th' rump… nope, Th' flank… the scout muttered, and squinted up at the doctor. '' Teo clipped … me a… good one, too. He's…. muy loco! Why're

y' yell… yellin' … **me** 'bout that? ''

'' Got your attention didn't it?'' Jemmy joked, letting go a huge sigh of relief. ''And I wasn't yellin', Cousin. You'd know if I was yellin'… I rode up from Kearney, while you were riding further up the trail. I reached the train… something over a week ago. Lucky thing, b'cause

as usual, you stood in some need of a doctor.''

'' Mebbee, but that still doesn't tell me what you're doin here, Jemm...'' Coop started to chuckle and then to groan. '' Pretty dang busted up, ain't I?''

'' Prett danged busted up sounds about right. What hurts when you try to laugh, Cooper?'' Jemmy asked, instinctively back in doctor-mode again.

''Everything!'' Coop growled.

'' Well, that's helpful.'' Jemmy shook his head, grinning. '' Alright, mister, time for a wakeful examination. For starters, Cousin, you look like holy hell. But that's a decided improvement from a few nights ago. Second, look at me, Cooper. Now, you tell me how clearly or how hazily you're seeing me. Chris Hale seemed to be especially worried about these big blue peepers of yours. So I want to find out just how well they're working.''

''Got way too close to some dynamite a while back.'' Coop admitted. ''You don't look so great yourself, Jemmy. But I can see you fine. I can see that real old scar on your forehead, from when you fell out of the plum tree behind Grampa's house.''

'' And scared momma and Cousin Beth, and Cousin Jenny half to death? That's funny,

I thought certain sure it was a peach tree.'' Jemmy laughed, greatly relieved again, for

his old friend and cousin, Cooper Smith and for his new friend Chris Hale, as well. ''Next up

come your ears… Cousin…'' Jemmy went on with his thorough going examination of Coop's faculties for a good quarter of an hour, and was well pleased with his clarity of vision and hearing, ability to track light and movement across the room, and speak clearly. They were still damnably lucky, this time. But Coop's energy was flagging. And not surprisingly, Jemmy knew the scout hadn't talked this much in nearly a week's time, or literally given his brain this much work to do.

''Cooper, I'm getting bushed, here. We'll pick up the rest of this later, okay?'' the doctor asked.

'' Sure, okay, Jem. Just… you'd tell me, first thing out of the gate, if you found something you were checkin' on just then, that showed up …out of kilter, right, Cousin?''

''My word on that, Cousin.'' Jemmy nodded, and smiled, reminded of old times. ''Will that do?''

'' That's all I ever need to hear from you, Jemmy.'' Coop smiled tiredly back. '' Glad to see you, again, Cousin, if not for bein' all bunged up this way.''

'' Glad to be seen, Cousin. And its not like I never saw you 'bunged up' before. You took no small number of spills yourself, years back. Lucky thing is, Coop, you've apparently got a brain-case made of solid granite!''

'' Well, sure it is! '' Coop laughed and groaned again, as his ribs and the muscles around them protested. '' Sure it is, Jemmy. That's where Jess an' me lucked out over you. Coopers, like both our mommas and so, us too, have got the hardest heads in Texas, and likely the whole danged country b'sides!''

''Take it easy, Coop. Hold on, I've got some thing to help you with that aching around your ribcage…'' Jemmy said, laughing too and reaching to mix some medicinal powders.

'' I don't much care for sleepin' powders.'' Coop complained. '' 'sides I figured we could do some catchin' up, seein' as how I haven't seen you in three, no, closer to four years!''

Suddenly Coop's eyes flew wide open, and he tried his best to sit up, as he gaped at his cousin's empty left sleeve. ''Jemmy, what in the blue blazes has happened to you?'' the

Texan tried to shout; but his ribs weren't having any, so he knew it sounded more like a

bull frog's croaking.

''Whoa, hold on there. Coop, you're about to tumble off the danged bed! So calm down, will you?'' ' Jemmy insisted, one strong hand on Coop's right shoulder.

''Calm down, sure! I'll calm down, soon as you tell me where, when and how you lost a wing, Cousin! And next in line you tell me why you never said one word about it, in your letters! '' The Texan's temper was up, now. And Jemmy knew Coop wasn't about to listen to pretexts, or be put off. [ The boy never did learn to give an inch of ground!]

Sighing, wincing and hating the story he was about to tell, Jemmy looked away and back to his Cousin again.

'' Three years ago, is the when of it. Figure I got way too close to an Army Colt that only then proceeded to chain-fire. That's really about all there was to it. Some dang fool kid had

a revolver he didn't have any idea at all how to use. Well, I … the President was standing right there. And of course, I couldn't get the Man to budge so much as a quarter of an inch! Not Ulysses Simpson Grant!

And that kid… Coop, you know what makes me angrier than anything that ever happened to me? It's simple, like so many other times when some bloody coward or other decides they want to kill the Man; they send somebody else to do their murder for them! And that time they sent a nineteen year old boy, if you can credit that! And he was … not only didn't he know the first thing about any sort of guns, he was completely out of his head!'' Jemmy sighed again, and turned to directly face the Texan.

''This really isn't a story I care much to recall. But you asked, so here goes: This boy, somebody gave him a Colt Army revolver! And they sent this boy to kill the President… figurin' a boy might seem harmless, might come close enough…Well, the rest of that nightmare I don't have a clear recollection of. And I don't want one.

But my partners later told me there must have been some damage done to his gun, or something happened that started a chain-fire, that made it explode. B'cause that's exactly what happened while I was tryin' to do five or six things at onct: keep the revolver pointed away from the President, while I was tryin' to get it away from the boy, who was like I said, just out of his mind… and terrified, too, get the boy away from the President, get at least

his fingers away from the trigger… get the President to go back inside his suite… we were all

in a hallway… and keep that boy, or myself from shooting any of the civilians who were beginning to crowd up … hearing the boy's shouts, and mine, I suppose…

I remember tryin' to get the boy further down the hall, or to the floor, out of range of the President… And I think I had my right arm all the way around him, he was rail thin… while

he fought me like a wildcat the whole time… I remember him screaming… and I was reaching with my left…still fighting to turn the muzzle away… towards a window, maybe…

My friends, and my doctors, some of whom are the same told me later… I was lucky to only lose an arm and they were right. The dang thing just got shattered, when the blasted gun exploded. So they had to come in and take it off to keep me from dyin' of sepsis. Thought for a while I'd lose my hearing too. So much for my brilliant career as a surgeon, right? ''

'' Cousin, you were never any kind of surgeon, unless absolutely, absolutely necessary.''

Coop offered. ''And you're still a damn fine doctor, anyways. But the boy… Was he killed, Jemmy?''

'' I … was told, later, he died before anyone could so much as try to help him. Cam was

his name. Cameron Lewis Breckinridge. And I … it was months before I really knew what happened. Well, that's the story, Cousin. Are you gonna scold me now, for losing a 'wing'

to save ' ol' Sam Grant's' life? Because if you are…'' Jemmy challenged the Texan wearily.

''I'm not.'' Coop said, grasping Jemmy's arm and holding on tightly a moment. '' How can I when you've clearly been pretty busy lately patchin' me back together, again? Jem, that's.. .that's an awful story, surely. But I didn't hear anything in it you need feel ashamed about. Didn't you tell me, five or six years back,, that nothin' in your whole, entire life makes you prouder than the work you do for Grant? Didn't you?''

''Of answering his call to service, surely, nothing, except the friendship and trust he's also given me in such great measure. Cooper he's the best man I've ever known, likely the best

I ever will know! And of course I'd lay down in front of a cannon barrage for him, willingly,

to save his life. But…'' Jemmy shook his head, his eyes brightening with unshed tears, and still anguished by that day, knowing full well he always would be.

'' **the boy died, Cooper!** A nineteen year old, sad, sick and terrified boy died that day! And why? Only, only because I couldn't keep hold of him? Only because I didn't react soon enough, quick enough, or strongly enough when I saw him, barely able to but still lifting that revolver? He was out of his mind and part of that with fear and I did nothing, said nothing that might help him? So, how in the very devil am I supposed to reconcile myself to that? I'm a doctor, Coop! **I'm a doctor!** '' Jemmy demanded.

Abruptly now, as Jemmy's own exhaustion overtook him, a kind of role-reversal happened.

Coop pulled the Carolinian into a much needed hug and held on fiercely, while Jemmy shook and wept awhile. And only when the younger cousin could take a deep breath again, did Coop release his strong embrace. And only when Jemmy was looking at him again, the Texan said:

''You're a damn fine doctor, Jem. Just like I said a moment ago. And a lot more, b'sides. So, you'll get no hickory sticks from me, Cousin. Now, if you'd got yourself winged that badly whilst savin' ol' Billy Sherman's scrawny hide, I dunno, Jemmy. Likely that would be a horse of a different color! '' Coop said, but managed a soft laugh to go with it.

''And if I'd been at Ford's in April, '65, Coop, and warned away, or somehow, purely by some miracle saved Mr. Lincoln? Would you disown me, then? B'cause I'm prett sure Jess might.'' the doctor wondered.

'' Well, no, I wouldn't and I don't think you're right about Jess on that count, either, Cousin. '' Coop shook his head and said nothing when that made him some dizzy. '' Most fellas we know are just altogether too glad to have th' shootin' war over, to feel that way now, if they ever did. And most fellas would take it just as hard as you, to see a young boy die like that, for nothin'!''

'' That's it, Coop. That's exactly what still enrages me about that day.'' Jemmy nodded.

'' Because like all or most of us, I thought and prayed and hoped, through four long years

of War, that most of all, there would never be any more boys lost that way!''

'' Not till, which G-d forbid, there's another war, Jemmy?'' Coop quietly asked his cousin,

his eyes shining with the same sorrow.

''I talk too much.'' Jemmy sighed. '' I just then brought up Jeff to you, didn't I, Cousin?''

'' Talkin' of th' war, or th' candies Grampa Nate gave us, or all th' wisteria and sweet gum down around Nacogdoches, or Gramma Merey's roses and lilacs all brings up Jeff to me, Cousin. You don't get all the load by any means, not on that count. But it's true, Jemmy, it is, I won't lie to you, you do talk too much.'' Coop told him, with a half grin stretching his map-of-Ireland features.

''Which isn't necessarily a sign of wisdom, in some of my current lines of endeavor.'' the doctor admitted, and then looked up sharply, when Coop fell silent. ''Coop? Cooper?''

'' 'm alright, Jemmy. I … I just recollected somethin'; somethin' one of those … crazed

fellows, the youngest of them, I think, told me.

And speakin' of boys, this one can't be more n' a year, two years older than Barney! He said: 'we were runnin' behind on our grand ol' endeavors… But now ye put us way ahead of schedule! Ain't that awfully sweet an' obligin' of him, fellas?' And I reckon that somehow stuck in this battered ol' brainpan up here… And, I've got no clue whatever what he was talkin' about, Cousin; but it looks a lot to me like you do.''

'' You're right. I know that the maniacs who came so close to doing for you, six days ago

have been roaming the countryside out here for over a year now, on a killing spree. And

to date, they've murdered twenty people, that is, twenty people we're sure about!''

'' And one was little Lissa Burke, and another one was s'posed to be Jess. Did you say six nights ago?''

''Yep. And by the way, I'm not sure anymore you get to throw stones about being crazed, Cooper. They didn't want to murder you, you know.''

''Well now, that did occur to me, Cousin, almost right away, when one and then another,

and then another of them called me 'Harper'. '' Coop answered laconically, leaning back

again. '' Figured I'd best find out what th' boy had done to get those folks riled up that

way, is all. Bein' as they're crazed, though, mebbee I shouldn't have been lookin' for an explanation.''

'' The connection, and this is what I rode up from Kearney to tell you, Cooper, the only connection we've found among the folks murdered, is some close tie or other to boys who rode with Jess' old regiment, who rode with the 8th Texas. Melissa Burke was engaged to marry a boy named Aaron Caldwell, from that regiment. And that was all these bastards needed, I suppose.'' Jemmy sighed again and rubbed his eyes. ''What else did you want

to ask me about all this?''

''Just one more, 'cause this time you really are getting tuckered out, Jemmy. Teo, Teo Bracamante, who by the way, I owe a tremendous debt, for getting' Gambler away that

night, if nothin' else. If he doesn't know it, he surely acted like he knows how much a

good horse means to Texans. Well, he stopped those fellows for a couple minutes. He challenged the icy bastard that ran 'em… And I can't exactly recollect … but it sounded like Teo didn't think that cold- eyed crazy man **was following** their orders. And m' not sure

what he meant by it. And I can't recall much else. Can you make heads or tails of that?''

'' I dunno, Coop. I don't. But you've surely given me something new to add to this insane equation. And I needed that, we needed that, or we'll never break this case! But we will, Cousin. We will, 'cause now they've gone and gotten personal on me! Now they've got

my Irish up, damn them! But please, don't push yourself to recollect too much, or too

hard, Cooper. Right now that will only get you headaches, or dizzy spells, like the one you

had a few minutes ago.'' Jemmy said, and winked at his older Texas cousin.

'' Doctors!'' Coop frowned, exhaling sharply.

''Cousins!'' Jemmy huffed right back, and held out the cup he'd mixed the sleeping powder in. ''Now drink this down, mister. No more arguments. And don't even bother pulling that long face on me. I learned to be impervious to that kind of nonsense from experts, up to and including Cousin Beth!''


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Hale wagon train was leaving Plum Creek, a week and a half after making another unforeseen stop. There had been three of these delays now. The season wasn't getting

any longer, the trail wouldn't be as forgiving later, as they crossed the plains and started

into the mountains. So the wagons were leaving early one morning as spring reached

its midpoint. But they were leaving without their chief scout and their Wagonmaster. The passengers were glad to get moving again, if a little worried about these changes.

But they seemed mollified when Chris told them in an open meeting that all the upheaval

and rearrangements were on a temporary basis, he just couldn't say for how long.

The crew, minus both Coop and Chris were heartened for their work, knowing Coop was no longer laying impossibly still and silent in the hospice, but awake and showing a strong recovery was beginning. Bill would take over as Wagonmaster, Duke as chief scout, both of which jobs they'd held off and on as the need arose, for more than five years now. Charlie would keep his cook's duties, as he wouldn't stand for anyone 'messin' with my cook wagon'. But as he'd done years back when Bill was laid up, Charlie would take on the work of the train's ramrod. And the trio had agreed with Chris' notion that they should 'spell' each other

to whatever extent was possible.

Barney although strictly charged with keeping up his schoolwork, would be what Chris called 'a general factotum' for the train; driving, running messages, and picking up whatever chores and duties the others needed to drop for a time, from riding the line to taking his turn on watch. And both were vital duties, knowing as they all did now, that murderers had come within striking distance, killing Lissa Burke and beating Cooper Smith, as Bill angrily put it, 'within an inch' . With that in mind, three members of Kate's crew offered to share watch

and other tasks with the wagon train's crew. Pragmatic as always, Bill accepted the offer, knowing the men were solid, trustworthy and hard working or Kate Crawley wouldn't have them working for her.

Even more than he had with the older men, Chris took time to talk about the next few

weeks and months with Barney. Hale knew just how scared the youngster had been when Coop was found. And Barney'd said nothing, done nothing out of that fear, but only kept

up with his schoolwork and his duties. The youngster needed and deserved to know how

proud his surrogate father was of him, right now.

'' These are a grown man's responsibilities I'm laying on your shoulders, Barney. And our friend Coop is a large part of the reason I'm letting you try your 'wings' this way. And not,

I don't' think, for the reasons you're guessing, either. Would you like to know what my reasons are?''

''Sure, Mister Chris. Surely.'' the boy nodded.

''Well, it seems that Coop has been paying more attention to you than I have myself, in

the past year or so, Barney. And he's given me a fairly good sized piece of his mind, on

more than one occasion about it.

Coop has been trying to get through to me that you're no longer the scared, lonely little boy who first came to this train. He's been unrelenting with me, saying I need to see that you are in fact growing into a courageous, bright and resourceful man, pretty much while I wasn't looking. I'd add that Coop without saying this in so many words, he clearly sees you as a younger brother, one he's perfectly willing to go to bat for as often as it takes, wherever, whenever and with whomever Coop sees fit.''

''Mister Chris, can I … umm… may I ask you something?'' Barney requested.

'' Of course. ''

''Well, umm… Mister Chris you and Coop, you haven't been having any kinda arguments about me, have you?''

''No, no, Barney. We haven't. '' Chris smiled. '' In fact that rock stubborn black-Irish Texan friend of ours has me just about convinced he's right about you. And that being the case,

I'd like to , apologize if I've been treating you as a child. But mostly, Barney I wanted

to tell you that Coop has a very high opinion of what you can handle. But more important

in my estimation is that Coop has a tremendous faith in you. Do you think you can live up

to that?''

Barney blinked hard and then nodded, grinning brightly up at Chris. ''Yes, Sir! I can, Mister Chris. And I will!''

'' I thought so.'' Chris grinned back.

'' Mister Chris, I … I wanted to ask you, or Jemmy… or somebody … something.''

''Go ahead.''

'' Well, umm… everybody was so worried, those first few days, about Coop, I mean. Everybody. And Jemmy even said he couldn't' tell us if Coop would .. be alright. And

that was only three or four days ago. And now, Coop's awake and everything. And everybody's all relieved and cheerful. And we should be. And I ..don't want to worry

… worry him. But I've been wondering, guess it's just left over from being worried,

b'fore. Anyhow I've only been wondering, Mister Chris, if …'' Barney stopped short

of what he was struggling to say. But Chris was sure he could read it in the boy's wide

grey eyes.

''Barney, if you want to ask me whether or not Coop's going to have a hard time with his recovery, with getting better, I'd be less than honest with you if I said no. He's going to

have a rough time of it. And it may be he'll have some days or nights almost as bad as

those first few were. Coop took in an enormous amount of punishment.

And he seems to be bouncing back from it, now. But I can't, and I won't lie to you, lad, anymore than Coop would, if he were in my shoes, right now. So, the truth is, we could

still lose him. And that's another of my reasons for staying behind, to help Jemmy and the others here watch out for any signs of Coop being in trouble. I thought I owed him that

much. That's probably not what you wanted to hear, Barney, and that's not the answer I wanted to give you.''

'' Nope. Mister Chris, no, sir, Coop says friends should always be as honest as they possibly can, with each other. And I agree with him. ''

'' And so do I, Barney, so do I. ''

Coop, now awake a good portion of the time, had five very relieved and happy visitors, off

and on, as the train got ready to resume its journey. And he had one or two fairly vociferous, if brief 'shouting matches' with Chris, when the Wagonmaster made his decision known to

the Texan. But the arrangements were done, the wagons were packed and ready. And Chris was adamant. And he finally made Coop see the sense of it, by pointing out how exhausted Jemmy Singer, the only doctor in something like one hundred miles, was becoming as word spread of his presence at the little hospice.

'' Turnin' the tables on me, are you, Chris?'' the Texan asked, frowning darkly.

'' Using your own strongest traits of character to convince you of what needs doing, is that what you call turning the tables?''

''Who in blue blazes said I have any traits of character? I'm just a trail-scout, you know. That's' all. '' Coop muttered.

''This, from the man who says he 'doesn't cheat at cards, chase skirts, flirt with other fellow's ladies, **or** get drunk? You're practically a pillar of virtue, my friend, and that was your own self-description. I also happen to know that you would turn the world upside down for your friends and kin, if need be. Well, until I hear otherwise from Jemmy, you're going to sit there and let us do the same for you, Coop.''

''Which roughly translates as you're not going anywhere, till I do?'' the scout scowled.

''Light dawns!'' Jemmy responded, laughing from his now accustomed post on the window seat. ''By the way, if my ears don't deceive me, you might want to give up this futile resistance, Cousin, and take a minute for soon to be departing friends, pounding up

the stairs, with Barney in the lead. ''

''What choice do I have?'' Coop muttered.

''None.'' Chris chuckled. ''Here they come.''

'' Hey, Coop, you're sittin' up and everything!'' Barney exclaimed, rushing in, smiling as wide as the Platte.

'' Yeah, Barney, so, what's this I hear, you're takin' over as chief scout and ramrod?'' Coop managed to chuckle, knowing when he was well and truly outnumbered.

'' Naw, that's Charlie. 'sides, it ain't… it's not for long. You're lookin' great, Coop, honest.''

'' Well, try and convince these two sour-pusses of that, would you, Barney?''

'' Well, I …'' Barney hesitated, then shook his head. '' I don't think I could honestly, Coop.''

''No, never mind. There's no movin' these two, not by so much as an inch. Believe me, if there was I 'd be headin' out with you. But remember, you said you're gonna start a journal, so I'll at least be able to read about what I'm gonna be missin' out on.'' Coop reminded the teen, but with a frown at Jemmy. ''

''You bet, Coop. I've got it set up with a map … I kinda drew. It's gonna be a real fine thing

to have. Oh, wait! I 'most forgot! Coop, I brought your journal up with me.'' Barney said,

and pulled the worn, gleaming leather notebook from his coat pocket. ''Seems as though 'm always handin' this back to you.''

'' And I'm always gonna say thank you, thanks much, Barney. Th' older I get, the less I'd

care to lose this! It was a present from my father, years ago. ''

'' Wow. Figure that would have to make it special to you, real special.'' the orphaned boy nodded.

''It does, Barney, it surely does. Listen, Barney, there's something else I wanted to ask you before you head on out with the train in the morning.'' Coop dropped his voice and leaned towards the youngster. '' And I think Chris would truly appreciate it, too, if you were to keep

a good, sharp eye on Charlie. If you'd see he rests and eats and such, with this ramroddin' he's gonna be doing, he might tend to forget, sometimes. ''

'' Like Bill does, more than he remembers to? Yeah, I can do that, Coop, I will, surely.'' Barney fairly beamed to be given this charge. ''But…'' and here the youngster lowered his voice too. '' You'll be doing Bill and Duke, Charlie and me a huge favor at the same time if …''

'' If I keep a good watch on Chris, for all y'all? You've got yourself a deal, old fellow.''

Coop joked, and winked, pushing aside his increasing aches and pains and a bothersome degree of lassitude taking hold, again. Grasping Barney's hand to seal their bargain, Coop

smiled to himself, and shook his head. [He's_ not Jeff, Coop; he's not. But he's a great _

_ki… a fine young man, now. And with the lot of us keeping a watch for Barney, he'll _

_never be tripped up the way Jeffy was!_ ]

''Now, you behave y, you young firebrand, you young magnet for trouble!'' Barney joked in turn. '' I've got a lot on my mind, these days, and can't be bothered always keepin' an eye

out for you, y'know!''

"'Yes, sir, oh, sorry, sir, Mister Barnaby, sir! ''

''Well, okay. Well, 'm sorry, Coop, I've got to go, now. I've … I'm goin' to drive some for Charlie and .. I've got to shift my gear, over to th' cook wagon.''

'' Well, sure, Barney. Don't let those wild cayuses Charlie's got this year make you any trouble. Just show 'em you're the boss.''

'' Sure, Coop. Ummm… see you. Thanks for th' idea about th' journal. Thanks. See you, Coop.'' Barney nodded, reached for and once more shook Coop's hand, and was gone

as quickly as he'd arrived.

Coop blinked hard and did the best he could to shift his right shoulder, frowning as he

couldn't quite shake the pain he'd been having there, and frowning again at his friends as

all five took a step closer to help him. '' I'm not paralyzed, y' know!'' the scout protested.

''No, you're not, Coop. But your temper surely is a lot healthier than the rest of you, these days.'' Bill answered him bluntly. ''And Barnaby isn't the only one here who doesn't cotton

to it much; not when nobody's trying to do anything but give you a hand here!''

Coop exhaled and bit back the first retort that came to him, and then the next and then another. Giving up an argument with the ramrod turned Wagonmaster because of Chris' decision, as a bad job all around; Coop turned his attention to Duke and Charlie.

''Well, c'mon, don't you two stay out of this. I'm sure you've both of you have something similar to tell me, about my temper or my health or something real important like that,

before y'all get going, that is!'' he challenged them.

''Charlie, d'you want to take that lamebrain there on first, or let me go at this dang fool, sitting up, kickin' and complainin', when ten days ago he was pretty much as good as dead; and a week ago he still could hardly move?'' Duke asked the cook turned ramrod, feeling as

if his question said all that was needed.

''Nope, you done fine, Duke. What I wanted to say is for Mister Chris, anyhow. Mister Chris,

I still think mebbee you should go on with the train and let old Charlie ramrod this here insulterable young scalawag. Lord knows, I know what's to be done with his kinda _nonesuch,_ and his kinda palaver, when he takes it in his hard head to be _abstinate_ this here way. That's all I wanted to say, anyhow.'' Charlie finished by folding his arms across his chest and giving Coop back glare for glare and frown for frown.

''Thanks, Charlie, but no thanks. I believe I have a trick or two in that regard still up my sleeve.''' Chris answered, with weary smile.

''Give it up, Cousin.'' Jemmy quietly advised the Texan. '' You're here for the duration and so is Chris. And frankly, I'm glad to have him, here. ''

''Oh, gosh, thanks, Cousin!'' Coop answered, still feeling peevish, out of sorts, flushed,

and much less hale and hearty than he had just two days before. And all things considered, including how much he hated 'coddling, the Texan was doing all he could to keep that to himself.

''Don't mention it.'' Jemmy chuckled, watching his cousin and shaking his head. Coop was only proving all of them right, this very minute, shifting around, grimacing and leaving his supper to get cold on the table beside him. The Carolinian's practiced eye told him Coop was not just feeling his bruised muscles and wounded ego. He was no longer leaning back on his right shoulder, not when he could help it. And he was alternately huddling under a couple blankets, or tossing them aside.

[ right upper quadrant discomfort, if not outright pain,] Jemmy busily observed. [ loss of appetite and now chills and fever, again. Damn all, Coop this isn't school, this isn't the kind of games we used to play when we either didn't want to or wanted very much to go somewhere! Just like I told Chris a couple days ago, Cooper. You're showing signs of liver damage; an abscess likely or worse, an infection and all of those are real trouble, Cousin.]

'' I won't!'' Coop answered, but in a weary, beaten voice. ''Alright, Alright! Where'd y'all put the armistice papers? I'll swallow Th' Dog, I'll sign the danged things, now!''

''Why, thank you, General Lee! Or is it General Johnston I have the great honor of addressing, Sir?'' Jemmy quipped.

'' Joe Johnston, if y' please. He held out a good two, two and a half weeks longer!''

''ummm… Coop?'' Duke asked, studying the Texan and nodding to Chris, who was doing the same thing, and frowning.

''Yeah, what is it, now, General Sherman, Suh?'' Coop sarcastically asked with an exaggerated drawl.

'' You said, you'll 'swallow the Dog'? What's that?''

''Don't none of all y'all smart as whips Yankees know that one, do you?'' Coop asked, finding it almost funny. Or it would be funny, if his back and shoulder, chest and head weren't aching and burning right now.

''Well, truth to tell, Cousin, I do. '' Jemmy answered. '' Duke, its what the boys coming home to Texas, Louisiana and mostly the lower Southern states started calling it; when they came to take the Loyalty Oath, when the War was ending, and for awhile after. They found it prett hard to do, you see.''

''I'd have to guess it was.'' Duke nodded. ''Thanks, Jemmy.''

[ Yeah, you'd have to guess it was hard! ] Coop thought irritably, not feeling energetic enough to start another round with his friends. [ You'd have to guess, Duke, cause nobody ever made you do anything like that, ever ! And nobodys likely to make you do it now, either!

Well, you got what you wanted; I've surrendered now, right? I'm stuck here till my Cousin th' Doctor says different, aren't I? Why in th' devil are you still standin' there watchin' me like… I dunno like what, and I'm too tired to figure it right now. _Quit your shakin', boy! Or they'll certain sure glom onta you bein feverish again!_ Damn, Barney left thinkin' most likely I'm angry with him or somethin'! I'm not, Barney, I'm just sore all over, and plumb worn out. Got no stayin' power at all these days! Where'd Barney get off to? Need t' tell him I'm not sore… Need to tell]''Barney.'' Coop said aloud, shivering again. '' Where's Barney?''

"' He's just down with the wagons, Coop.'' Chris told the younger man, seeing with no little alarm how fast his fever was rising now and how badly it disoriented him. ''What did you want?''

'' 'm not angry with him. But he … left, but 'm not angry with him, Chris. He's a good kid, Chris… 'm not angry with him…''

'' Well, I'll make sure he gets to know that, Coop, if he doesn't know it already.'' Chris answered, suddenly wondering if Coop was really talking about Barnaby West, or about Jefferson Smith, now.

''Yeah, yeah, tell him… tell him… I've got no call, no reason to be … and 'm not. But he left… an' I … I meant to tell him.. He might mebbee think I was angry…'' Coop shook his head,

and that didn't' help matters at all. All of a sudden, between the imbalance in his aching

head and the one between his aching right shoulder and his left arm and shoulder still in a splint, he was toppling over, towards the floorboards.

''Whoa, easy there!'' Duke said, easily breaking the older scout's sideways momentum, half expecting Coop to lose his temper again at being helped to sit back against his pile of pillows.

'' No more takin' headers, okay, pal?''

Coop canted his head and peered at the tall, younger man, who was getting oddly fuzzy, around his edges. '' 'M not angry, listen… you go on and … find Th' boy, now. 'm alright.

Just tired out. Go on, now, all y'all … m' just …Duke, where'd you come from?''

'' Well, Indiana, to start with.'' the blond answered as part of an old joke between them.

'' Oh… hmm… yeah, y' told me that. m' from Texas, not everybody can say that … an' m'

from Nacogdoches, not very many folks can say … that, too. But they still let me sign up

in … over in Marion County, so I did. 'm a… 'm a yup, First Texas… that's it, 'm a Invincible, now… feel awful.'' Coop muttered, and with the pain in his right shoulder and right side flaring, he groaned and took the opportunity to pass out altogether.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE Plum Creek, Nebraska the 1870s

Cooper Smith, was anything but still now. He was anything but quiet. And as he thrashed and cried out hoarsely, it became terribly clear Coop was anything but aware. He showed no sign of comprehending his surroundings, not the sickroom, or the hospice that surrounded it, of recognizing the people keeping watch over him, or those who'd gone. If he sensed them at all it was only as figments, as illusions. His literally fevered brain was carrying the Texan back and forth from one confounding, often distorted or flawed memory to another. These were far more real to the scout than the world around him, now. And they were far more wearying, as each such 'journey' robbed Coop of yet more strength.

''boys… how.. how many… boys… cordwood… ever' where!'' Coop muttered. And in this

fever dream, saw just what he spoke of: scores and dozens, hundreds and thousands of

dead boys in butternut grey uniforms, sprawled, piled or even more surreally, stacked on pallets, all around him. And they were all just what he'd called them, boys, not one by face

or form or frame looking to be older than twenty! And in an even more horrifying turn, the fever-dream showed him, Coop knew each and every one on sight!

Boys from east Texas, and all over his home state, who'd gone with Coop to join the justly famous 'Texas Brigade' were the first he saw in this dream, laying as if they'd only died the instant before. And in some hazily logical manner seeing them first made sense, if anything here could. These boys were the first Coop saw fall and die in the eastern and western theatres both.

After them came boys from other regiments and commands in the Army of Northern Virginia of which John Bell Hood's Texas Brigade was a justly proud and greatly honored part. Georgians, Virginians, Mississippians, Carolinians, from South and the 'old North State',

wild-hearted boys from Florida, from Alabama and all over Mississippi were there as well.

By their hundreds of thousands they came to 'the Conflict', fought and fell and died there.

And then to the western battlegrounds and sieges, Knoxville, Chattanooga, Chickamauga, Franklin, turning back to fight in the defense of Atlanta… boys came pouring in to each fire-fight. Boys from all parts of the South, and some from the 'neutrals', Kentucky especially

and Missouri came to fight beside Coop and 'his Texans', his 'old Ragged First'. And when camp-diseases, privations, and strange, colder climates didn't kill them, battle wounds, amputations, hospital stays, capture and imprisonment often did. From a hundred different causes, still they died by their thousands, and tens of thousands all around him.

''But they're too young!'' Coop shouted, not knowing if he was protesting to the Army, to the War or to the Universe at Large. '' You're all too young! You're too young to be layin' here still and silent, you're too young to be… gone!'' he insisted, to no avail, getting no answer. It didn't matter, it didn't matter one whit how he called out, cursed or how he finally, began to weep. The boys he knew just went on marching, went on fighting and went on falling all around him.

The pure, yet insanely choreographed chaos of any and every battle surrounded Coop

and these silent comrades, these brothers in arms. Empty cornfields, churchyards, old cities and small towns, tangled woodlands, rivers, swamps and streams all ran red. Sunken roads became cemeteries, hills and cliffsides alike became nightmarishly impenetrable fortresses, springing up and vanishing around him. The roaring barrages of artillery, the shrieking sound of their shells, the clatter and crash of rifled musketry… came back to him like ghosts, appalling and strangely muted.

Men of tremendous honor and valor appeared in lightning flashes and were gone in the next instant. ''General Lee to the rear!'' Coop heard his First Texans cry out, as they had at the Wilderness, and he cried out with them. ''General Lee to the rear!'', as the 'silver fox' sought to lead their next charge. Longstreet, Jackson, Stuart… he'd seen them all, only at a distance and for less than a moment, yet here they were, alive, whole, unwaveringly courageous and inspiring. They don't know yet! the fever-dream told Coop. That's why you're seeing them as they were! **They don't know yet the thing can't be won!** They don't know yet, a third to a half of these boys might have been spared, might have gone home again, if only someone stopped the fighting sooner!

No! No, damn you! Coop's younger mind, as he now seemed neatly divided between his older and younger selves shouted. You can't stop them! You can't! They're all valiant! They're all the pride of their homes, their nation! They're, all of them, heroes! They're all fine, brave, true-hearted Southron boys…They're…

**No! No! No! Damn you, cold-eyes!** Coop, caught up in the midst of one nightmare found

it suddenly swerving into another, much more recent horror. They're all dead! They died, almost before they knew what it means to be alive! I'm only wishing they hadn't!

Traitor! Turncoat! Liar! Hypocrite! You marched right off with them, didn't you? You took

the oath and signed your name of your own stubborn seventeen year old will, didn't you? You were going to 'show those Yankees', just like all the other boys who marched alongside you. Weren't you? So what are you kickin' about now? And by what right are you standing here telling these fine, brave true-hearts they shouldn't have laid down their lives? Why, yeah, c'mon, tell me why, Turncoat? Maybe because you didn't?

So, now…what, you're trying to put these incredibly strong, strong-willed and heroic boys

in the wrong? You're trying to undo all their daring deeds, deny all their victories and steal

all their hard won Glory? Why, Turncoat, are you jealous of them? Is that it? Yes, damn you! You don't mourn their heroic deaths! No! You envy them their undying Valor, their enduring Honor, and their everlasting Legend!

The darkly cold killer's eyes caught and held Coop's gaze and wouldn't let him look away,

now. And all the bitterness from the dregs of every battle suddenly threatened to swallow

or to drown the Texan's fevered mind and grieving spirit. And the fever-nightmare seemed

so much stronger than the man in its midst right now, holding him like a fly in a spider's

web, like a man bound hand and foot, laying face down in a stream just deep enough to drown him!

I envy them? I'm jealous? I want them to be wrong? No! No, that's crazed! They were my brothers! I loved every single one! We were closer than friends or cousins or brothers ever could be, marching, riding, fighting, and camping nearly in each other's pockets! I'm jealous?

I envy them? Might as well say I hate them!

Don't you? cold-eyes, or at least the shape and voice of that murderer asked, reminding

Coop even in his feverish state of some kind of devil's advocate figure. Aren't they just another part of why you left east Texas and never really looked back again? Aren't they just another reminder of what can never be again? And, truly, Turncoat, aren't they just another maddening deviation from the Traitor's blood that runs in your veins and ran in your born-brother's too!

DON'T DAST SAY THAT ABOUT MY BROTHER! Coop screamed at the madman, struggling

with bonds he saw as the ropes that held him nearly helpless in that streambed. Jeff was all

of sixteen years old! And he was as brave as a mountain lion, as brave as mountain full of 'em! He was too young to be in the shootin' war, surely. But so were most of them, so

were most of us! But there was nothing lacking in his heart or spirit, ever! Thomas Jefferson Smith was as constant as the day is long, you bloody bastard!

Right up until the moment he let himself be duped by a red-haired Yankee temptress,

right? Then all bets were off for young Jefferson Smith, weren't they? And you said

yourself, Turncoat, 'Jeff went and got himself shot', didn't you? Your brother got himself

well and truly conned by a lying, merciless Yankee female, and he got lined up and shot for

his trouble, when all he likely did was fall for just another Northern tramp and damn Yankee spy, to boot!

But we started out talking about all these boys and about you, Turncoat. So, what about

you, Turncoat? What is it now, two, almost three years ago, you found her. You found your brother's ruthless murderer? Right? So, where is she now, Turncoat? Did you plant her six f

eet under, the way she planted your brother? Did you push her up against a wall and shoot her, the way she did for Jefferson? Did you cut her lying heart out and feed it to some filthy Yankee dogs in a gutter, somewhere? Did you even manage to beat her the way she clearly needed to be beaten? Well, maybe not, whores usually like a good beating, now and then, don't they? So, tell me, Turncoat, just what did you do, when you found our sad young fool, our Jefferson's, betrayer?

I… I … tricked her. I … chased her, and her … daughter, both. I played her, played 'em both the same way she played Jeff! Coop, answered, finding the words sounded contemptible,

even in a fever dream.

You didn't kill her? What the devil kind of man are you, anyway? She sent your brother, knowingly sent your young brother to his ruination, and to his death by a firing squad!

You at least wanted to choke the life out of her, to beat the tar out of her, to make her

pay, and then put paid to her worthless, lying, betraying life, didn't' you?

DAMN YOUR EYES, OF COURSE, I WANTED TO! WHAT SHE DID KILLED JEFF AND … KILLED OUR MOMMA, TOO, WHEN SHE KNEW OF IT, ONLY SLOWER! AH G-D, AH G-D, JEFFY, 'M SORRY! 'M SO DAMNABLY SORRY! I COULDN'T KEEP YOU OUT OF THE WAR, OUT OF THAT PRISON DUTY, OR OUT OF HER DAMN SNARES, EITHER! AH G-D, MOMMA, JEFFY, DADDY.. PLEASE, PLEASE, FORGIVE ME! I SHOULD'VE… TORN HER LIMB FROM LIMB… AND ALL I DID WAS TO TRICK HER! ALL I DID WAS PLAY HER… WHEN SHE'D SENT JEFF TO DIE BY WHAT SHE DID TO HIM!

JEFF, FORGIVE ME, BROTHER, LITTLE BROTHER, PLEASE… JEFFY… JEFFY… 'M SO AWFULLY SORRY, JEFF… JEFF.. JEFF WHERE ARE YOU? NO, NO, DON'T! JEFF, DON'T GO THERE! DON'T GO NEAR HER! JEFF, LISTEN TO ME! JEFFY! JEFFERSON! DON'T! ''Jeff, please, don't… don't go near… Jeff… don't… Jeff… .m' so…Jeff! No! She's gulling you, Jeff! She's a damn Yankee spy and you know that! Jeff, please! '' Coop was screaming only in his fever-nightmare. On his sickbed he was just barely able to whisper by this time.

But the fever had him doing just that, to the point of perseverating, repeating his sorrowing, sobbing, and remorseful pleas incessantly. Chris Hale looked up from his vigil with the tormented man and, seeing Jemmy Singer watching, shook his head. '' There's been no change, at all… Not in two, nearly three hours. Except he's not gaining, the fever is. What are you thinking of trying next? Another tepid bath?'' the Wagonmaster asked.

''No. Not this time. His fever's not only not subsiding, it's spiking harder and faster than the first time around. We have to knock this fever down and out and on the double-quick. For two reasons, if it goes any higher we're looking at a damn good chance Cooper will have febrile convulsions, is one. And two, I can't even try to drain the abscess I palpated this morning on the right lobe, while he's thrashing around in delirium this way. But it's that abscess that's causing him to be feverish! So, it begins to have a prett damn circular logic!'' Jemmy frowned.

'' So, now what, Jemmy. What do we try next?'' Hale demanded to know.

''Next we freeze this fever right out of Cooper. I have some of the orderlies on their way to the icehouse… the one the saloon uses. We're just going to pack the boy in blocks of ice, and keep him that way until this rotten fever breaks!''

'' Alright, Jemmy.'' Chris nodded wearily. '' That sounds like a fine idea. In fact that sounds like something I should have thought of, coming from Gloucester!''

'' We've tried all the steps, all the careful, cautious, textbook means and measures for lower grade fevers. I'm the one who's been taking baby-steps trying to fight it. And it just keeps running higher and faster. Well, I was a champion Wake county foot-racer as a boy. So I'm not about to be outrun! Let's get these sodden bedclothes, and his clothes off Coop, while we're waiting for the ice. And then we'll get him into some clean, dry, warm long johns. My idea is to freeze out the fever, not my cousin! But, if you don't mind my prying, Chris, do you know what Cooper's been talking about, what he's recalling? I know Jefferson died in a tragic way… but… ''

''It's not only that, Jemmy. And you're his doctor, not just his friend and cousin. So I don't think I'm telling you anything Coop wouldn't. A few years back, a woman, an 'actress' came on board the train with her daughter and her retinue, a Sandra Cummings. And as I only found out in the midst of her journeying with our train, she'd been a Union spy. She was captured and escaped, more than once; and on one of those occasions, young Jefferson… helped the woman escape, again. Coop only found out when he got word his younger

brother was being court-martialed.''

''And it being wartime, Jefferson was convicted and summarily executed.'' Jemmy finished sadly, stating what he knew would have had to happen. '' And this woman came to your train? Did Cooper know who she was?''

'' Apparently so. In fact, I think he spent some time, before coming to work for me, looking for her.''

''And knowing how Coop loved his brother, he'd have been hell-bent for leather where this woman was concerned.''

'' He was that. Coop told me himself afterwards; he almost couldn't recognize himself in the man he became on finding the woman he blamed for his brother's death. Myself, I think it showed the real measure of the man you and I both know, in that Coop never laid a violent hand on her. But he did try to pay her back. And I don't think he still cares much for the way he felt and acted at the time. As Coop sometimes says, I think that whole matter still 'rides him'. He saw a very dark part of himself, then. And that's never an easy thing for any man

to see, much less acknowledge.''

Jemmy sighed, and shook his head, working with Chris now to relieve Coop of sweat soaked bedding and clothing both. '' You know, I wired to see if my friends and mentors, both of them the best of doctors, Danny Hoffner and Thomas Macquillan could come out to help us help Cooper. They were in Denver, as it happens. And they're on their way here. The reason I'm mentioning it again is that Thomas… 'Mac' as we usually call him has an analogy he likes to share about the War … and its aftermath.

He says, when the War was starting, or maybe even a few years before, it seemed to him

as though we, all of us, fell into a pitch-black well, or mine shaft. And that we then spent

the next however many years you want to say we were there, doing all we could to get out, again. And more to the point, Mac says, we all did and said and things we'd never say or do

in the light of day, to get back out of that darkness. We panicked, we screamed, we tore at the walls, at ourselves and at each other. We made terrible oaths, terrible mistakes, and worse promises. We climbed on the backs of hundreds, thousands of our brothers .we did murder, we tricked, and stole, we lied, cheated, spied and, yes, sometimes, we betrayed.

And we were probably all more than a little insane, down there in the dark. But we can't

ever point fingers and say … they did something worse, they said something spectacularly evil. No, we can't, ever, Mac says, because it was too damnably dark and there was too much of

an echo down there to know who was who, much less what they did or said in that well, just to get out of it, again. So, I try real hard not to point fingers. And when he catches me at

it, you can believe me, Chris, Thomas Macquillan always calls me on it.''

'' And is it Danny, or Thomas who you said grew up in Boston?'' Hale asked, handling his chief scout as gently as he would a baby, while Coop struggled, but only feebly, now.

''Thomas, Danny hails from Silver Spring. No, it's Thomas Michael Anglim Macquillan we

like to call our very own Boston Brahmin. Oh, and of course, as you can tell by that moniker alone, there's not one Irish bone in his entire body.'' Jemmy chuckled, lifting Coop almost as easily as Duke had, up from the bed, to dress him in a set of warm, grey wool long johns.

'' _it scratches, Daddy_.'' Coop muttered, still caught up in his fever, but with another, happier shift in what he saw and heard. In this one, it was his father who pulled the soft, scratchy underclothes onto his arms and legs. It was, he saw, Danny Smith as he was twenty years ago, still red-headed, strong and soft spoken, and grinning widely as his older son, about

nine in this fever dream, squirmed and giggled.

Well, yes, yes, it does, Cooper. It's wool and that's usually scratchy. But it's going to help

_you stay warm, now, son. And that's only to the good here. You need to get better, Cooper. _

_You need to get well, son. Danny Smith seemed to be telling his oldest son. People are depending on you, Cooper. And I know you won't let them down, son. You never have_.

Let Jeffy down, Daddy. Let you an' Momma down, too. Didn't save him, didn't help him… Whyn't I just break Jeff outa there? Let all of you, down then… an'… later… too. In this new fever dream, Coop shook his head and despondently contradicted his father. 'm' so awfully sorry, Daddy. D'ye at least know that much?

I know that about my son and a whole lot more. So now, don't contradict me, Cooper. I … I

_know your heart. I know you've grieved and pondered on all that for so long it's become like a canker. But you … son, you can't let that ride you; you simply can't let that eat away at you. Because that's not the case, son. You're not at fault. Neither of you were at fault, not the way I see it. You and Jeff were caught up in the maelstrom, son. I'd have to guess a lot of boys were, then. _

_But, now, listen, listen to me, Cooper. I also know just how fine, and wide and brave a heart you have, Cooper. I know how hard you've worked and fought and struggled at times to be the man Beth and I knew you would be. And that's why people are depending on you, now, just as you depended on me, when you were a boy. You've made yourself a good, strong, _

_fine young man, Cooper. You've proven yourself. You've kept from so many of the snares _

_and troubles… you've made us so terribly proud, son._

_m' real worn out, Daddy… ache and hurt… and 'm burnin up … get so I can hardly move _

_for hurtin', or think my head aches so… m' so wearied, Daddy… can't I just… can't I just stop hurtin'… fightin' … missin' you an' momma… can't I …_

_it's not time, son. it's not your time. of course we miss you, of course I'd give my eye teeth _

_to pick you up and tuck you into your little bed upstairs, or onto the settee by the fire, the way we'd do sometimes when you felt poorly, Cooper. But that has to wait. You have to wait, don't let loose, now, son… don't let go… don't do that, son. You have so much still to see and do and find out… don't stop for anything, Cooper. Just don't you do that, leave that for another time, son. We love you, Cooper, your momma and I and Jefferson love you, for always. Lean on that, whenever you need to, but don't you drift, son, don't you let go, not now, not for anything._

'' won't… won't Daddy. won't… for always…'' the wearied man murmured, shivering again, his fever still holding.

''that's a boy.'' Chris said, settling Coop back on the bed. '' that's a boy, now.''

'' Daddy, won't let go, Daddy.''

'' Please, don't.'' Chris almost prayed. '' Don't let go, not yet. Coop. We're still in this fight,

you and I and Jemmy. And I have … I need to tell you … a great many things, that I already should've.''

''They're here with the ice, Chris.'' Jemmy said, tapping the older man's shoulder.

For the next quarter to half an hour, three orderlies, Jemmy, Chris and several nurses

worked to cover, and surround Coop's wiry frame with chunks and blocks of ice cut off

the huge ones carried there, still packed in straw. Around his forehead, Chris laid a small towel, wrapped around the smaller ice chips they'd created, cutting the larger ones. Then Jemmy nodded, took a longer towel and gently bound the 'ice bag' in its place. And then,

as their patient shook and shivered and murmured, they went back to their watching,

their praying and their waiting.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Plum Creek, Nebraska the 1870s

Coop was freezing now, he was colder than he could ever remember being. Sure, there'd

been times in the war when Coop Smith, a boy raised in the warm, green countryside of

east Texas, found himself shuddering and shaking in the colder, wetter Virginia, northern Georgia, Tennessee and Carolina winters. Of course, he'd been caught, and more than once,

while learning the trails he scouted, when an early snowfall, and a late traveling scout made

the badly timed acquaintance of each other. But now, Coop could feel nothing but the cold that wrapped around him, deep and strong enough to make him seem to stutter, to make his teeth chatter in his skull. And he couldn't remember, while he lay shivering, when or how it was the late Nebraska spring somehow turned to winter.

And more than just cold, it slowly got through to Coop that he was wet through, soaked to

the skin, which didn't help him with that freezing part, a bit. Also, he was lying face down

in water so shallow it only came halfway up his limbs, his chest, and his arms. But he didn't know where he, or that shallow water was, until he heard their voices. A raucous, jeering, mocking collection of voices, high above him. They hated him, without knowing anything about him. They delighted in beating him within an inch of his life, and likely further.

And some of them, notably their crazed, cold-eyed boss man would be just as glad to kill

him, here and now; all because they thought he was a man who as it happened was his

first cousin, another fine, proud, wild, true-hearted former Rebel, named Jess Harper.

_Who asked you anything, Harper? _

_So, perhaps we needs must excuse your lapses in proper behavior, when they've occurred,_

_to your not being purely Southron. Perhaps. Yes, perhaps, that's the case, with you, Harper. Do you think so?''_

'' _You may answer my question, Harper.''_

'_One must learn from the past, after all, and yet live in the present, mustn't one, Harper?'' _

'' _Well, with that well settled, I'll say farewell, now, Harper._

Their voices hammered at him, like cannonades, like blows, like weapons. They taunted

and lied and tried their damndest to demean him, somehow. They wanted, they needed

him to be less, to be flawed, to be worthy only of their contempt and loathing. They didn't dare to see him as another human being, another former soldier, or another man. They

were terribly afraid, and wanted to inspire only fear, only helpless, angry loathing in

all their victims, so as to justify their own. Showing them defiance, audacity, and valor,

in which Coop knew he was well and truly 'impersonating' his cousin, sparked confusion,

set off panic, and spread division amongst these murderers. And like so many other

former 'Rebels', Coop understood how bona fide courage could demoralize, terrify, and

paralyze one, or a whole wolf-pack of cowards. And that was all he needed to recall.

_Workin' with those damn Yankees softened you up, has it, Harper?_

' _Reckon you don't have worry about any of those things, Harper. _

_You're not a guest, here, Harper... You're our job of work today, remember? _

_No questions, Harper? No curiosity? What, have all these Yankees drummed that out of you? _

_Somebody knock the stuffing, or the beans right out of you, did they, Harper?_

_A lot of boys we here knew rode with the 8th, Harper. But I don't figure anyone who came home whole has anything to brag on. All that means to me is they knew better how duck_

_and run._

''_So you are a Turncoat, after all, Harper. You are a traitor to the Cause. And here's a starting taste of what we give to traitors!_

'_m not! 'm not a Traitor! _Coop once more seemed to hear his younger self cry out_. an' you can't ever, ever make one of me! No, nor any of my kin, ever! _

_Never mind these lunatics, these great fools here, _Coop now turned to 'counsel' his past, his boyhood self, _They're never going to win by going after men like Jess, or Jeff, or us. Look _

_at them, they think I'm Jess, they think I'm that other wild, true-hearted east Texas boy! _

_So, fine, I'll play along, play for time and play them but good, while I'm at it, since they're that blind and that dimwitted. Certain sure, we won't give them what they came after._

_Jess, you know danged well, I'm not about to give you up to these mad men, much less to that _muy loca_ they work for! Not one inch of ground, not one friend, and not any, ever, of _

_our flesh and blood will they get from me! _

Now, the older Coop seemed to see the younger one nod, and grin wide as the Braxos or

the Rio Grande. Adopting a firmly planted, wide-legged, entirely Jess-like stance, he turned

to glare at the enemies ranged around him. Then he laughed aloud, and shook his head.

_So, what th' devil do you think you know about th' 8th, Mister? Nothin' that's what! Purely nothin'! But you think I'm Jess, so alright then! My name's Jacob Emrys Sayer Smith Harper an' I signed on with Terry's Rangers, Eighth Texas Cavalry! An' we rode hell bent for leather all th' way from Pittsburgh Landing to Chickamauga, to Goldsboro, North Carolina!_ _An' not one of us ever thought to run for cover! An' not one of us ever murdered in cold blood! _

_But you, you talk about boys that came home whole as though they were all cowards?_

_That only proves you don't know th 'first damn thing about it! You dim-glows don' even _

_seem t' know that out of 249 boys left fit for duty in the Rangers, come April 25th in_

_th' 65, only 90 stayed on another day, and surrendered with ol' Joe Johnston. All th'_

_rest, all th' other hundred an' fifty nine, turned west an' marched off t' fight in th'_

_Trans-Mississippi, t' fight an' bleed an' die there as long as they had breath in their _

_ragged scarecrow bodies! So, don' go talkin' about Terry's Rangers, mister boss-man, _

_not in th' range of hearin' of any of us still alive an' kickin' now! _

Grinning fiercely, Coop could feel those fiery words warming him again But now they were like a hearth fire, like a camp fire, like a home fire, low and ardent, and brilliantly full of light. Turning, somehow, away from the frightened, panicked and desperately confused faces of

his failed killers, both young and older Smiths knew exactly who they'd see.

_Momma, you're so wonderful to see! Miss you so awfully, some times, worse than others._

_But you're happy again, aren't you, Momma? You're surely happy there with Jeff and Daddy, _

_Grampa Nate, Cousin Franklin and Aunt Jenn? _he asked Elisabeth Micaela Smith, seeing

her plain as day, lithe and young and just a touch tremulous, as he remembered her when strong emotions shone through her perfect oval, freckled face, her gifted hands, and her

wide grey-blue eyes.

_We're all here, dearest, and we're all saying the same thing. You're wonderful to see, Cooper, so courageous and kind and strong! I don't know when I've been prouder of you, my dearest boy. I surely don't know how I could be. And everytime I think that, Cooper, you prove me wrong! _

_Doesn't sound much like the manners you kept tryin' to teach me, Momma. I shouldn't be_

_provin' you or any fine, real lady wrong. _

_I think I'm up to it, Cooper. _this loving dream of his mother answered._ I can't truly be knocked over in the next high wind, you know. Just you go about getting better, getting_

_well and strong again. Just you do that, Cooper, and mind me, now! _

_Always, Momma, always… just like I love you, for always. _Coop promised her and sighed,

as she seemed to stride away.

_For always, and for always, Cooper_. her voice came back, just once more_. _

'' _for…always and for always, Momma.'' _Coop murmured and with a strong sense of

receiving one of Beth's warmest hugs, opened his eyes, and blinked up at Chris Hale_. _

''So,'' the scout asked in a voice that hoarseness didn't begin to describe, recalling, as

he woke, the last time he'd seen the Wagonmaster. '' 'bout how much trouble am I in?''

''Considerable.'' Hale answered, his native New England bent for being taciturn fully in

place. The Texan's eyes were clear, now, though, no confusion clouding them. And his

face was much more it's natural, healthy color, not flushed red or milky pale. Coop's fever

had broken. _Jemmy's freezing-out technique was a success, thanks be! _But Chris hadn't

the heart to wake the young doctor, who'd curled up, 'just to rest my eyes', and still lay, gently snoring, three hours later, on the window seat.

''Kinda figured that.'' Coop nodded. ''Don't suppose you had either time or inclination to

tell the fellows I was only … bein' a pretty much literally hot-headed, 'insulterable young scalawag', did you, Chris?''

''Didn't really see the need to, Coop. They're all of them pretty well aware of that, by this time. I was wondering myself though, about something you were saying to Barney; when

did you start calling him 'old fellow', not to mention 'Mister Barnaby, sir'?'' Chris asked.

''Oh, that only started up the night little Lissa was murdered. We rode out for a bit, not

even a quarter mile from camp and back, once Reverend Parry showed up. And, it seemed to come out of nowhere, just a way to get a grin out of Barney. But, now I think I remember … not m' Daddy but Jess', our Cousin Franklin… used to try to lighten things up that way.

Seems like he even said it sometimes to Daddy! ''

''Well, they did know each other all their lives. And Danny **was** three years Frank's junior.

So I think you're right, I think Jess' father did plague yours that way, from time to time.'' Chris said, then groaned inwardly at what his own great weariness and greater relief let slip.

''Chris, what?'' Coop rasped, almost falling off the bed in bewilderment. ''How in the very

devil would you know that? **I** don't even **know** how much difference there was in their ages! You knew them? You knew my father? Great G-d, Chris! Is that what … **That is **what you were getting set to tell me that same night, isn't it?''

'' The largest part of it.'' the Gloucesterman nodded, sighing. ''And I would have finished that conversation with you well before now, Coop, I swear it; if there hadn't been just a few, small interruptions. ''

.''You **knew** my father? **You** knew him?'' Coop reiterated, still fixed on that idea. It dazed him, at first. And then, still more strangely, the notion began to make sense, all the sense in the world to him, in fact. Coop blinked, and shook his head, as if to clear it. These new ideas, this new set of startling, perfectly sensible facts, were whirling like he'd seen impersonators of dervishes doing, only in his mind

''For something over forty years, yes. I knew Danny, and greatly respected and deeply cherished him. Just as his oldest son is and I hope will always be; Danny Smith was one

of my very best, and dearest friends. But, this is a lot to take in, all at once, Coop.'' the Wagonmaster said, in a worried, chary tone. '' And I surely didn't intend to blurt it out

in quite this way. And you've just now come through yet another ordeal, with this fever.

So, perhaps it's best we leave it now, for later tonight, for tomorrow... ''

'' Dunno. Dunno, Chris. I … It almost feels as though I … I could've guessed it! And I'm surely no kind of seventh son. They had some troubles… Daddy only told me, years later, they lost… three babies, a boy and two girls born too early on, he said. That… that only makes me a second son… '' Coop pressed his hands to his mouth for a moment, as if not sure what might pop out, then looked up at Hale again, his blue eyes shining with greatly mixed emotions.

Then he shook his head, and chuckled, mostly at himself because he kept going back to the core idea.

'' You knew **my father**. This … is gonna take me a… little while, Chris. One minute I can't seem to get my head around it, and all I can think is… **How**, when you're from Gloucester? And the next, I'm thinkin'… so, that's how it is you read me better than I'd like, some times, and just how I'd wish to be read… others. Mebbee you even know the next question I don't know if I want the answer to… ''

'' I think I might. At least I know what I've been expecting you to ask me, Coop, right out of the box, as it were, from the time I knew I was going to tell you about this. Or more precisely, from the time I realized I might not get the chance to tell you.'' Chris said, sitting on the chair beside Coop's bed.

'' Alright. Let's find out. Kate got this out of you, so she knows. And, I'm… I'm fine with that, pretty much. Pretty much. Kate's fine. I like her. And she can surely be as close-mouthed

as any man I know and more than a lot of 'em. So, who else knows that you knew my Dad, years and years before you offered his son the job as your chief scout?'' Coop asked, with

a look in his eyes, Chris thought, as though he was daring himself not to flinch or look away for even an instant. It was a look very much like one of Beth Cooper Smith's most earnestly determined expressions.

''Jemmy. Jemmy, because he couldn't help seeing how I was agonizing over not telling you before you were hurt so badly; because he's your family and your friend, and your doctor. You, me, Jemmy Singer and Kate Crawley, know this, Coop, and no one else who's still walking the living world. And if you want it; and more to the point, if you'll accept it, my friend, I'll gladly give you my solemn word on that.''

''Chris, I'd take your word if you told me the sun wasn't gonna rise in the east, tomorrow.

I think you know that. '' Coop half-grinned and then grew serious again. '' But, there is… another part to that question. And I hope I know the answer. I surely hope I do. So here it is: Is knowing … is being my father's friend the reason you made me that offer? Is Daniel Smith the reason I have this job with you, his friend of forty years?'' the scout sat back, and squared his shoulders, with some awkwardness, the left one still in a splint, and waited Hale's answer with the affect of a man knowingly stepping in front of a firing squad.

''No.'' Chris answered, eye to eye with the younger man. '' Your work before you came to the train is the reason you have this job, Coop. And your father would be just as furious, and just as right to be so as you, if the opposite was the case here. He, well you know this, Coop, Danny was an absolute bear on the subject of uncompromising fairness, of a man's merits being his only true wealth, I know how often I heard him use that latter phrase. So I know you must have. You earned this job; and you've gone right on earning the right to keep it.

On my friendship with your father, Coop, that is the G-d's honest truth of the matter.''

'' The sun is gonna come up in the east in the morning, isn't it, Chris?'' Coop asked with a tired laugh.

'' Insofar as I know, Coop. Insofar as I know.'' Chris nodded, on a vast sigh of relief.

Now Coop shivered, and looked down at himself, his long johns, the bed and the bedding.

Every inch of him, and of them was sodden, soaked through and still holding an ice chip here and there.

'' Out of those clothes, mister.'' Jemmy commanded, laughing as he woke up, stood up, and strode over to the bed. '' Can't have you getting over this danged fever, only to have you expire from pneumonia, now can we, Chris?''

''What'd you do, Jemmy, import the whole, entire North Pole down here?'' Coop laughed, only to find his ribs were still somewhat unforgiving.

'' Prett much, Cousin. prett much. And it's danged good thing I did. We were getting really tired of your old War stories, especially magnified twenty, fifty, a hundred times into fever dreams! You really didn't take over the whole eastern and western theatres all on your own, Cooper. There truly were a few other boys around at the time, you know.'' Jemmy chuckled, and started to help rid the Texan of his sodden long johns. That done, and a dry set acquired, a heavily blanketed Coop was ordered to the window seat while an orderly helped Jemmy change the bed.

''There were a whole lot of other boys, Cousin. That's partly what I was … likely hollerin' about … with that fever. They were what I was seein' certain sure. Ouch! What in blue

blazes are you pokin' me with now?'' Coop protested as Jemmy, still in doctor-mode,

charily prodded at his right side.

''My right index finger, Cooper. And I wasn't poking, I was palpating the next hurdle we

need to get you over, before it can start up another round of chills and fever for you.

It's an abscess on, thankfully, the right lobe of your liver. And we're going to relieve you

of it. Cousin, sometime in the next few days. Nothing to worry about, now we've put that fever out of commission.''

''Nothing to worry about?'' Coop laughed a bit tiredly. '' How come it is, every time

somebody with an M.D. or similar accomplishments tells me there's nothing to worry

about; I figure I'd best start worryin' all the more? Now, why'd you think that would

be, Cousin?''

'' You've only known really, really bad doctors?'' Jemmy laughed. ''No, seriously, Coop,

It's… a whole lot like lancing a boil, that's all.

Also, you don't have to be worried about my doing it, which you have every right to do; being as I'm a bit short-handed. Danny Hoffner is due here tomorrow or the next day, latest, to do it. And he's the most gifted surgeon I've ever seen, bar none. And with him is coming the doctor who actually taught both of us doctorin', and a whole lot more, and a whole lot more doctors besides us, Thomas Macquillan.''

''Uh-huh, three docs for one little ..procedure? Coop shook his head and turned to the Wagonmaster. '' Chris, get me the heck out of here, will you? Jemmy honestly thinks he just very much reassured me; and he couldn't be further off the mark! So, let's get going!''

'' Absolutely not.'' Hale answered, hiding a smile at the young Texan's reaction.

'' Well, why the devil not? You're as good with doctorin as anybody I know. And you don't

go lancin' boils inside a fellow's … insides, do you?''

'' I haven't done that , no, Coop. But what I have done over the past fortnight, now,

is to watch your Cousin use every thing he's learned, or read or heard of to save your

life. And he's done that four, no, five times now, in just that period of time. So, if

Jemmy says he's going to help his two doctor friends get rid of this abscess, I'm

absolutely going to take his word he will.

And you might also want to know, my unreassured young friend, that this same abscess

is what has had you laid up with a raging fever, for most of the past two weeks, now.

And that we had to work like Trojans to knock that fever down, so the blasted thing can

be got rid of. I'd imagine you understand that wasn't possible while you were thrashing

about there in a fine delirium.

And if you didn't understand me before, Coop, then understand me now. It was knowing

you would use just this kind of ridiculous, pointless arguments designed to get your way,

no matter the consequences, that pretty well decided me to stay behind in the first place. So just grin and bear it, my friend. This Tar Heel cousin of yours has earned my fullest confidence. I would have assumed he already had yours.''

'' I do, Chris.'' Jemmy answered grinning, when Coop shrugged and looked away. '' Cooper's just being contrary, about now. I don't think he much likes, just at the moment, that you know him so well. But then, I don't think my cousin likes anyone knowing him inside out. Jess has always been the same way. Both of them have always been exasperatingly proud, annoyingly independent-minded cusses, wouldn't you say so, Coop?''

''Sounds about right.'' Coop muttered, then turned to look at Hale. '' Sorry, Chris, you do know me, so, reckon you know just how much I hate bein' stuck somewhere, **and **being prodded by doctors.''

'' Yes, I seem to recall those particular character traits.'' Chris smiled.

'' Hey, Jemmy, speakin' of proud, independent minded cusses, have you heard back from Jess, yet?'' Coop asked, as the doctor walked him slowly back to the now clean, dry bed.

'' Not one word. I'm beginning to think I'm still not one of his favorite kin folk.'' Jemmy shrugged, trying to make light of an ache more than ten years old now.

'' He doesn't have that many to spare, Jemmy, not unless we start counting second cousins, and first cousins three or four times removed! When did you write Jess?''

'' Just as soon as I got to Kearney. And I had to write to Aunt Peg first of all, to find out where Francie's living now, to write her, before I knew where to write her brother! So that was nearly four weeks ago. And for good measure, when you got hurt, I sent Jess a wire. Next I guess I'll try a passenger pigeon! Wait, Cooper, Jess told me once he taught you to read and write, so I know the boy can read. Or did I get that backwards, again?'' Jemmy laughed.

'' Jess told you what?'' Coop yelped, and then groaned as his ribs still weren't in a lenient mood. ''Well, that settles it. When I get up and out of … Oh, sorry, Jem, sorry, Chris, when

I'm allowed to get out of here, I'm headin' straight to Wyoming Territory to shake some of

the nonsense out of 'th' boy' my own self! Want to come on along for the fun, Cousin?''

'' Only if I don't decide to get in that line ahead of you, Cousin.''

'' Get that, Jemmy, figure that. What about those crazed but not too awfully bright folks I ran into, y' know, with my head? ''

'' I'm actually expecting _nuestro amigo muy loco,_ Teo to slip away from them just long enough, sometime in the next week or so. Then we'll have a better idea of what they're planning next. And my partner Adam Morgan's on his way here, along with Danny and Mac, from Denver. When we can all put our heads together with what Teo's found out, we'll have a prett good idea what we should be planning, to try and get the jump on these lunatics.

Adam's our best analyst. He has a real genius for looking at heaps of hard information and sifting out what helps and what doesn't. And the more pieces you give him, the better Adam likes it. He gets like a kid with one of those ships that end up inside a bottle. And nothing is going to stop the man until he gets that 'ship' either in or out, as needed. Seriously, nothing. You'd have a better chance of distracting one of the guards in front of Buckingham Palace!''

'' Well, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or provoked by that description, Jemison, my lad.'' a booming baritone voice called out from the hallway outside the sickroom. Its inimitable owner followed it across the threshold, a big, bluff, broad shouldered man in his late thirties, as dark as a Greek and nearly as tall as Duke Shannon. ''We haven't been properly introduced, gentlemen, as my partner has no understanding at all of etiquette, protocol or anything else outside a military or medical facility.'' the newcomer laughed, and swept a courtier's bow. '' Adam Morgan, of San Francisco and many, many points east, at your service, and very glad to meet you both.''

'' You should be flattered, Adam. or was that a rhetorical question?'' Jemmy laughed in turn, gladly embracing the older man. ''Mr Christopher Hale, of Gloucester, Mass. and many, many points west, and my cousin Cooper Smith, of east Texas, etc, etc, etc, … my partner, Adam.'' Jemmy finished, rolling his eyes heavenwards. ''Adam, did you just leave Mac and Danny to deal with the train and the luggage and the hotel, or didn't' they come with you?''

'' No, I didn't , no, I didn't, no, I didn't. And no they didn't. Mac got called to consult on an emergent case of some sort, back in Denver and Danny, curious as always, tagged along with him. They might not make it here for another two or three days. No doubt if you'd been within arm's reach they'd have taken you along with them, Jem. All I heard about it was that the son or nephew of some Denver nouveau riche nabob was found in grave condition, in one of the sections of town that nabob's sons and nephews aren't even supposed to know about.

Now, since I'm here to help you on this case with Jemison, I'd like to start right away. And I'll start by asking you, Mr. Smith; as our only surviving witness to date, what do you recall about these killers?'' Morgan, who seemed all fripperies and fancies on his entrance, sat down and became emphatically all-business, to the point of pulling a battered notebook and pencil from his coat pocket, and jotting notes in a coded, rapid fire style of his own invention.

'' Well, not very much, so far.'' Coop shrugged, chagrinned to be a possible source of 'hard information' and have almost none to offer. ''There were nine or ten of them, altogether, I think. And they were all about as different, tall and short and such, as you could imagine.

But they all wore… cowhand's long dusters, and they all wore cavalry officer's slouch hats, Confederate cavalry. Figure to hide for the most part, what they look like, including what kind of clothes they might be wearing. But, there was one of them… '' Coop frowned and squinted, trying to catch a scrap of memory as if it were a lightning bug. And it was slipping through his 'fingers' until he made one more somber effort.

''One of them … was a woman! I'm sure of it! I heard her voice! She sat astride a big steel dust stallion, and held a rifle on me, as if she'd done both those things all her life! But she talked … She spoke like the hostess at a ladies' tea! And not what she said, the way she

said it! And Teo, your friend Teo, Jemmy, he told me they take her orders, and they surely

did while I was there, _'esa loca'_, Teo called her. And he really hit the nail on the head, that time!'' Coop knew he was wearing down again, not feverish now but well aware of the pain in his right side. He wanted to try recalling more, even though the flash of memory with that woman's half hidden face and chill voice wasn't one he welcomed. Still, he was determined to hide his discomfort.

''No use, Cooper. We see right through you. '' Jemmy said, without a single note of laughter anywhere in his tone, as he sat down and made as gentle as possible an examination of Coop's right side, that was nearly rigid now as the Texan reacted to the pain. '' Well,

between Chris and myself, we can. I know all your tricks from years ago, and he knows

all your newer ones, you see. So, just give over, will you, damn it, Cousin?''

''Well, since you ask the man so nicely, Jem, how can he refuse?'' Morgan laughed. Coop decided he liked the San Franciscan, as different from men the Texan knew as he was.

Jemmy turned to frown darkly at his partner. '' Thanks, really, thanks a lot, Adam. And enough already with the questions for my patient, for now. ''

''Don't mention it, Jem. Thanks, thanks, Mr. Smith. ''

'' Mr. Smith was my father, or more like, my grandfather. '' the Texan answered, ''Call me Coop, and tell me, will you if that's any help at all?''

'' Absolutely.'' Morgan agreed.

''Absolutely, **when** I say so.'' Jemmy amended, taking charge of his sickroom and his patient.

Suddenly from nowhere he could pinpoint, and for no reason he could catch hold of, near-panic rose in Coop that he could barely restrain. Something about the way Jemmy had frowned, or something about the soft clinks and clanks of whatever he was handling on t

he bedside table, sparked another image, other sounds that almost paralyzed the Texan.

And in the next instant his weary, muddled brain seemed to tell him where both came from.

'' **Just don't try** your danged laudanum or other dope on me, Jemmy, you hear?'' Coop demanded, nearly hissing the words through clenched teeth. For some reason he couldn't begin to catch hold of, even in his own exhausted brain that idea, taking drugs that

crippled so many wounded soldiers, abruptly sickened and terrified him. ''I came away

home without any of that, I came home without once… touching th' damnable stuff! Don't

you come at me with it now!''

'' I'm not, **I won't.** You don't need it now, Cooper.'' Jemmy was quick to agree, quick to reassure his cousin, while casting one swift, bewildered glance at Chris, who shared it, shrugging. '' All we're going to do now is put some hot compresses on your side, and that

will start to ease you right away. That's all you need, and so we're not about to do anything more, I swear it. I've done this plenty of times, Cooper, plenty. I don't use opiates when there's no need of them, ever. I've seen the boys destroyed by them, maybe more than

you have. And I know what the least little things can do instead of those, to ease a fellow, believe me, I do. ''

''Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, Jem…my… m' sorry… m' sorry, Cousin.'' Coop said, feeling shaken and feeling very much like the little boy he'd been, long ago, losing his temper often, and just as often seeking to make amends.

''Nothing to worry about, Cousin, nothing at all, and no hard feelings.'' Jemmy told him, and meant it, remembering a few old times himself, when his own temper got the better of him, mostly when he was very scared.

[And_ what in the very devil just scared th' bejeezus out of you, Cooper? When before now were you hurt badly enough that someone would drug you, without your permission? Ah, G-d! Did those bastards at the stream-bed have time give you laudanum, or worse to give you morphine? And if they did, why in blue blazes would they?] _

Setting his questions aside for now, Singer swiftly organized a sort of relay, intended to

supply Coop with the compresses he mentioned, towels folded thickly, then thoroughly

soaked in hot water. These went on and were held against Coop's painful, almost rigid right side by wide lengths of gauze, until the whole arrangement cooled and was replaced. And

they worked the hoped for wonder, easing and letting the Texan doze and drift off most of that afternoon and evening. When Coop fell asleep, Jemmy drew his partner and Chris Hale

to sit with him by the window. And now in hushed, worried voices they shared their questions, qualms and fears about Coop's revelations.

'' A woman, Coop said. A woman riding with these killers?'' Chris asked, appalled.

'' A multiply gifted woman, he said, and the one who's directing these killers.'' Adam amended. ''And that was actually what our friend Teo apparently told your friend Cooper.

And I'm wondering, Jem, when did you last hear from Teo, and when's he due to report in?''

'' Last was a fortnight past. So he's due in the next four, five days to come and be debriefed. And am I thinking what you are, partner, that we should just pull Teo out of there, and let the other fellows keep on?'' Jemmy asked.

' I would. If only because, from what you reported, young Teo's been there the longest,

and he may be getting over-confident, taking too many chances, lately, amongst that pack

of wolf's heads… No, no, that's a grave insult to both wolves and all medieval British out-laws everywhere!''

'' Alright, Teo comes out and stays out. He knows how to set up a suitable departure for one Tyler Pierce. He should, you taught him how to cause a fine, distracting scene to cover an exit, Adam. But, what about this out of nowhere panic about taking laudanum, Chris, does this fit in with anything Coop's said before when he was injured?'' Jemmy wondered, turning to the New Englander.

'' I started to say, no, absolutely not.'' Hale told the agents. ''But that's not so. As long as

I've known Coop he's had a great abhorrence to taking painkillers of just about any kind, unless it was a shot or two of whiskey down his gullet. And as you said yourself, Jemmy, you've seen the reason why a few hundred, a few thousand times over, since the War,

in what we politely refer to as the 'soldier's disease'. But that's in general terms, and it's

a blot on the whole nation that we let it happen.

But this wasn't general or second hand. This wasn't Coop being outraged at what's happened to former soldiers. This time Coop was clearly terrified of being drugged himself, without his knowledge, much less his permission. And its got me thinking back to the night you and Duke rode up the trail and found him, Jemmy.

It's got me thinking about what a frightening time we had with Coop's breathing those first two, no, those first three nights. And I don't need a doctor's license to tell me that laudanum and morphine depress breathing. That was supposed to be one of the major benefits in using them for sedation and pain! And yet, it makes no sense for those murderers… I can't make any sense of beating a man within an inch of his life, and then … ''

''And then dosing him with one kind of opiate or another?'' Adam finished, frowning tautly. '' And I can only think of one, not very pleasant scenario along those lines exactly. The boy,

the richman's son in Denver, was attacked, by robbers, the constables thought. But they left something with him, too. They left the poor kid with an armful of morphine.

He nearly died the first night and now probably half wishes he had done. He's probably dependent already.''

''Adam, wait a minute!'' Jemmy said, barely keeping his voice down. '' Great G-d, Adam! I

just realized there could be an even more deranged pattern to what these murderers have been doing. And you're about to clinch it for me, partner.''

'' I am? Wow, I must **really be** a genius.'' Adam jibed.

'' We'll talk about your intellect another time, partner.'' Jemmy frowned. '' Just tell me, Adam, what if any, connection this boy in Denver has to the 8th Texas Cavalry, to Terry's Rangers. ''

'' Well, let me take a look, partner. '' Adam said, leafing through his notebook/journal. '' Yes, yes, here it is. Jem, I think you're turning into the genius here. The boy's maternal uncle rode with the 8th Texas, came home, took a share in his sister's husband's businesses, and. died in bed? Hold on, just another second. Yes, here it is, he died in his sister's home in Denver,

of pneumonia, just over a year ago.''

''Pneumonia, '' Jemmy repeated thoughtfully. '' Maybe, or maybe not just that. Friends, unless I'm wrong and I'd really love to be wrong, this time. this is lunacy worse than we've even begun to guess.''

'' Why would you say that, Jem?'' his partner asked.

'' Because, Adam, if I'm right we're not looking at a band of lunatic killers. We're looking

at a loosely organized, quasi-military group of people **so insane** they're seeking to spread 'the soldier's disease'! And they're starting with men who served in the 8th Texas, their close kin or their survivors. And yes, some of the people they've targeted **have died**, like Melissa Burke, and nineteen others, which doesn't seem to phase these bastards one whit! But, thinking now about the autopsies we've done, thinking about the way those twenty people died, the only common denominators, all along have been ties to the 8th Texas, and being **heavily** dosed with opiates; morphine, laudanum or patent medicines. But if I'm right, those deaths were never what they were trying for, damn them!''

''And now we have Coop, and this youngster in Denver who haven't died, thank G-d,

following these attacks. And maybe they're just the lucky ones, here. But I'm less and less sure I believe that, now. We know the boy in Denver was drugged. And we have some prett strong indicators that Coop was, as well. And I … damn it, I missed things that should have thrown up flares and started all the alarms in my brain at once and sent up a few dozen red flags, to boot!

I saw how listless, how badly confused and disoriented Coop was when we found him.

I chalked that up to a contra-coup concussion. I saw how he, like Chris said, had a lot of difficulty breathing, for several days after the attack. And I let that go under the heading of badly broken ribs. I've been looking at this case for over a year now, Mac's whole team has. And opiates were either the primary or secondary cause of death, each and every time! And I never looked for, never even considered looking for signs of Cooper being drugged by these lunatics! What in the very devil is wrong with me?'' Jemmy asked of no one in particular and standing, made to slam his fist into the doorjamb.

''Jem, first of all, '' Adam said quietly, standing up, and swiftly, strongly grasping his

partner's arm in mid-swing. 'we don't need this doorjamb even half as much as we need

your remaining hand just the way it is now, whole and sound. Secondly yes, we've been treating this as a series of murder investigations, all of us on the team have, partner. And frankly, if the Director hadn't started getting pressure from higher ups in Washington; we'd have left them as that, twenty separate cases of murder, to be dealt with in their separate, local jurisdictions.

That being said, I believe you're very likely to be onto something, here, Jemison. And you know how it makes me crazy to agree with my partners, **any** of my partners. And I think I'm going to end up wiring the Director, and Mac, Jacques and Ori, and half a dozen of the other lead agents we've got out on this damnable case, with this new theory you've come up with . And before that, I think we should sit back down and hash that theory out a bit more, rather than casting blame in all directions, including your own. Alright?''

''You agree with me?'' Jemmy asked, with a taut half grin. ''Adam, are you feeling okay?''

''Never mind how I'm feeling. How are we going to prove this engrossing new theory of

the case is in fact … the fact of the matter? We can't possibly track down all the surviving veterans of the 8th Texas. We already know that, because for one thing, we have less than half their regimental records still intact! And for another, if we knew every present address for every name on their roster, we don't have the manpower, much less the other resources to go around the country, seeking to find out if they came home with 'the soldier's disease' And, Jem, considering these are **all **former Confederates, why on earth would they tell **us** that, if it were the case?''

''They wouldn't, not for the most part.'' Jemmy nodded with a tired smile and a non-verbal 'thanks'. '' ''And we're not going to even start asking. We're not even going to look at CSA records for the Texas 8th. In fact, you and I aren't going to look at any records, right now. You've got a whole room full of analysts to do that kind of thing, partner. And they're going to look at **hospital records, north and south**.''

'' Hospital records…'' Morgan repeated and then smiled at his partner, while Chris watched their highly-charged give and take with some interest and no little amusement. ''Hospital records, for former members of Terry's Texas Rangers, wounded seriously enough at some point during the War, to **require** the use of morphine, laudanum or both. Alright, that surely must be a much smaller population to search in. But still…''

'' Take it one step further, or more precisely, one step smaller, partner. First, we need to

know who those wounded men were. And then we need to know **which of them has since passed away. **Because I think those two factors are at the center of all this lunacy. **This** is someone's idea of getting fairly exact, and fairly exacting revenge on the 8th Texans who

**not only came home again**, but who came home whole and sound, at least compared to

those who returned from 'the Conflict' with troubles they **couldn't begin** to overcome.''

'' What'd I just say about genius? In other words, these maniacs may be trying to redress what they'd call a colossal imbalance, if not an outright injustice. One of their own fell to this 'disease', why not the others?''

''Job's question?'' Chris murmured. ''Why is there immense suffering in this house or country and what must seem like far less, even none in that family or town or region? Indeed, why is there suffering at all? And of course there's no understanding the answer to that. Easy to see how that can lead to madness.''

'' Mr. Hale, I suspect you of being not only a gentleman but a scholar, and not only those but a philosopher as well.'' Adam said, sketching another bow, with a mischievous smile in his dark bright eyes. '' Have you never thought of government work, sir?''

''Never.'' Chris answered, with a half grin of his own. ''And right now, I mean to retire, for

the evening that is. Very interesting, very disturbing ideas, Jemmy, Mister Morgan. You won't mind if I hope we're all wrong about this, will you?''

''We're praying to be found wrong, actually, in this instance, anyway.'' Jemmy told him. '' G'night, Chris. See you in the morning.''

'' See you in the morning, Jemmy, unless.'' Chris said with a quick glance at Coop, still sound asleep for once.

''Unless.'' Jemmy promised his new friend and sat back as Chris left the room, to talk more with his long-term friend about what had or hadn't happened to his life long friend, Cooper Smith.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

'' Jemmy? Cousin, you awake over there?'' Coop asked, waking up himself as the deepest part of the night turned towards dawn. ''Jemmy?''

Jemmy had stretched out on the window seat, when Adam went to start sending 'a few dozen wires'. Now, always a light sleeper, he was up and at Coop's bedside in half a moment.

'' What's the matter, Cousin? Is your side troubling you again, Cooper?'' the young doctor demanded.

'' No, not just now, not as much, anyhow. But I'm about ready to toss this battered, fogged in brain pan of mine, for all the good it seems to do me, just lately. Seems like I keep tripping over things I should've already done or said or at the very least figured out.'' Coop shook his head.

''Seems to me, Cousin that it was Cousin Beth who always said to watch out for should haves and such … especially after the fact. But, truth to tell, I've done some tripping-over of my own, just lately. So, we're in the same boat, I'd figure. So, what did **you** trip over, waking

up just now?'' the doctor persisted.

''That my doctor-cousin from Raleigh saved my life two or three times, just lately, and I haven't thanked him even once, just for starters. Thanks, Jemmy. '' Coop answered, shrugging. '' Momma would tan my backside for forgetting that.''

'' Ah heck, Cooper, it's what I do for a living.'' the Tar Heel doctor shrugged. '' Can't seem to keep from doin' it a bit. Adam says I'd have my own hospital by now, if I could only stand still long enough. ''

'' Jemmy, since when do you **need **to do anything for a living?'' Coop chuckled, shaking his head. '' I've seen _Mirandahl,_ you know, **that tiny, broken down shack** your family has owned for just about ever, outside Raleigh. Matter of fact, I got born there. And as to what you do for a living, I thought that had mostly to do with a fellow goes by the name Sam Grant.''

'' Ulysses Simpson Grant.'' Jemmy responded with a mock frown creasing his forehead. ''Which doesn't really explain what I'm doing in the wilds of Nebraska. But you said, for starters, what else is rattlin' around up there?''

'' Mebbee one of the same things rattlin' around in your brain-case these days. I'm wondering if my North Carolina cousin is wondering if our younger cousin has some kind of mad on with him. Kinda wondering when you're gonna just take off for Wyoming Territory and get all that straightened out with Jess; seeing as he's not answering your letter or your wire. "

'' Nope, **you're** just wondering if you can't get me out of here so there's only Chris to keep you pegged here till you get better. Thing is, Cooper, I don't doubt for a minute Chris Hale's up to doin' just that. I mean peggin' you to the floorboards here, if need be. B'sides, I don't have any reason to think Jess' is angry with me. We sat and talked a good length of time,

last we were both in Nacogdoches. He's just not any kind of letter writer. And b'sides, I

prett much told him he should be thinking about goin' to ground for a spell, while these lunatics are still rampaging. Figure that's just what he's doing, right now.''

'' Mebbee. Jess has never been one to stand down from a fire-fight, though. Add to that … Jemmy, I don't know what Francie wrote you… ''

'' She said her tumbleweed of a brother seems to be staying put prett well these days. And that she really likes the place and the people he's staying put around, too, that Jess' is finally in a good place, in his head, too. Now if we can just catch up these killers, before they come anywhere near th' boy!'' Jemmy almost prayed.

'' And **I'm in on that**, Jemmy. What with getting' bunged up, pulled off the trail and sidelined, I'm definitely in on that take-down! Not to mention they're likely still goin' after Jess; it's getting' danged personal, y' know?'' Coop insisted.

''Figured that, Cooper.'' Jemmy nodded. '' But don't take that as any kind of a 'bye'. You got that, Cousin? The more and more I know about these maniacs the less and less I want anyone I give a flying fig about within shouting distance of them.''

'' But we don't… you don't know who the devil they are, right?'' the Texan demanded.

'' We're working on a couple of ideas to find that out, maybe even a way to smoke them out

of wherever it is **they** go to ground in between their murders. Teo's due in sometime in the next few days. He'll be able to give us an even better idea on how we can do just that. These lunatics are prett damn tricky. So it seems to me that we need to start being even trickier. We've got to stop their run, Cooper!''

'' And we will, Cousin. By the way, where' d you find that friend of yours, Adam. He's kinda hard to figure, himself.'' Coop assured the young doctor, falling easily into older-cousin mode.

'' Well, he was with General Grant at Vicksburg, and with George Thomas at Chickamauga. And he got stuck inside Knoxville for a time, when Bedford Forrest was stirring up the countryside. What Adam will never tell you is, he's also one of the fellows that helped open

up the 'cracker line' to lift the siege at Chattanooga. So, he's actually not much for boasting, appearances to the contrary notwithstanding.

He's a Shakespearean actor, a writer, a composer, and a painter, amongst other things. Also,

he's my best friend, my partner and sharp as a tack with finding out counterfeiters, getting

us both out of a jam while hardly breaking a sweat, and solving puzzles that stump some

of the brightest folks I know. And what Adam **doesn't** know about almost anything, Cousin,

you could fit in your hat and have a heckuva lot of room left over.'' Jemmy knew he'd been rattling on, as Coop grew quiet and then yet quieter. '' What more is on your mind, Cooper?'' Jemmy asked.

'' 'm not sure, exactly. If it was Chris, he'd probably say he'd had one of his premonitions.

And the truth is, he's had some that panned out really well. I'm just … I've got the same kind of feeling I've had when a heavy storm is brewing, or when I've been hunkered down, waitin' for the Blackfeet, the Kiowa, or the Arapaho nations, **or** the whole, entire Army of the Potomac to come boiling over the next rise at me, at us! Nothin' personal Cousin. No offense meant.'' Coop admitted.

'' None taken, sounds prett much like the feeling I used to get, readying the tents and the tools, tables and the cots for what would come boiling at us, **after** the whole, entire Army of Northern Virginia came howling over the next hill! Seems like a million years ago, doesn't it, Cooper?'' the Carolinian asked his cousin, shaking his head at the least cherished of his War memories.

'' And like yesterday, sometimes. '' Coop nodded. '' Only…that's another way I knew those

real friendly folks I met recently were totally crazed, Jemmy. You and I, me and Duke, or Chris … or the other fellows, can sit and talk about the war , entirely in the past tense, if

you get my meaning. Those killers, on the other hand, made a point of sayin' the wars not over, leastwise, not for them. And they weren't; that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, far as they were concerned. And that right there fits real well into my idea of bein' _muy loco!_

''Mine too, Coop. And I've heard the same notion, from some folks back east, more often than I care to tell you. Seems to me, though, it's mostly civilians who want a war to start, to go on, to just keep on goin' to the last drop, the last man has to bleed, I guess.

And they'll hold to that, as long as it's not their blood or their last surviving son's, either! Not a single, solitary soldier or former soldier I've ever known would say or want **any such thing, ever. **And yet there's been a certain feel to these killings; that makes me think I may be wrong about that, in this case.

I told Chris Hale, not long after we met, that I'd hate to think any physician would be party to these attacks and killings. And that I knew there could be because of the access these killers seem to have to a constant supply of the drugs they're using. And in much the same way, I'd hate to think that any soldier, any man who came through that War, our War, nearly ten years ago, would still raise his hand against men who happened to be on the other side of all those bloody battlefields, **much less against men who fought beside him!** '' Jemmy exclaimed.

'' I'm with you there, Cousin. But, figure it's my turn to ask, now, Jemmy, what's worrying at you, tonight like a puppy with an old shoe?''

Jemmy grinned at the Texan, bright as day, and then his bright green eyes grew thoughtful, along with his voice. It'd been awhile since they talked about anything except Coop's recovery, and the troubles they were still facing.

''Oh, nothing much, Cousin. I have the feeling lately that I understand better these days, why you and Jess, and so many other boys came out here… out to the wide open plains and such. It's surely a fine country. And I've heard Wyoming Territory's prettier than Nebraska.

I'm way too citified these days myself, getting soft and spoiled by living in the District, I guess. Missed the pony-swim last summer, looks like I'll miss it again this year. Now, that's the kind of thing that a fellow has to stay in shape for.'' Jemmy answered.

'' pony… pony-swim? That's what you told me about years ago, isn't it? Culling the wild pony herds out on those islands in the Chesapeake? Sounds like a real fine time. Must be a little bit more interestin' now, when you've got just the one wing, there, Cousin.'' Coop grinned.

'' Interestin' **doesn't begin** to describe what happened!'' Jemmy laughed. '' But I'm never going to turn down the chance to do that again, or go out on the breakers to dig for clams,

or go sailing on the Bay. I spent most the spring and summer doing those things; and ridin', takin' care of the Place, and tramping around up in the hills with my Dad, two years ago. I wouldn't trade one second of those days for all the brass medals, fancy commendations or supposed honors in the World! ''

''He was the best, your Dad, Jemmy, just the best!'' Coop offered, quietly offering comfort for the loss of Stephen Singer to his son, setting one hand on the younger man's shoulder. '' And everybody that ever knew him would say as much. It stays with me, to this day; Cousin, the kind, patient way he counseled me, and you and Jess before the War started, when mine and Jess' Daddys were already gone. And how he came back to Nacogdoches, when Momma was failing; surely knowing all the while some stiff-necked folks around those parts **wouldn't want him there, much less make him welcome.'' **

''I was awfully proud of him, then; and always, really. I learned what courage means from him.'' Jemmy nodded, blinking hard at the tears brightening his bright green eyes. '' Just like you learned from Cousin Danny. This friendship… Coop, I hope you understand why I asked Chris about that.. about his friendship with your father?''

'' It was riding him hard, Chris told me, that he hadn't already spilled the beans. Tellin' you helped him, I know that, Jemmy without Chris even sayin' so in so many words. And, Chris is, the best friend I have. But don't go tellin' him I said so. So, no, I don't mind a bit. Right now, though, I'm mostly tryin' to get that whole idea of him being friends with Daddy, to fit inside my brain-case. But I can't find a hard word to say about it. Maybe getting knocked around so hard rattled my brains around another way about such things.

Mostly, I know the man. And there's not a spiteful, not a devious, not an underhanded bone

in his whole, entire body. Chris Hale has a hot Irish temper, and a stubborn streak as wide

as the Platte, too. But not anything low or mean or cowardly about him, ever. So, I guess that means I know he was going to tell me about knowin' Daddy sometime, that he meant to; and that he thought I'd go straight through the roof, on hearing about it. '' Coop answered, and then looked up, with a wide, sleepy grin, at a familiar foot-fall.

''I did that.'' Chris admitted, from the doorway. '' You two haven't been jawing all night, have you? It's nearly dawn!''

''Only half the night, really.'' Jemmy answered, with a wink at his cousin. ''And it's my turn now to catch some sleep, before Danny and Mac show up. G'night, fellas.''

''Good night, Jemmy. Or maybe I should say Good morning.'' Chris smiled, and then straddled the chair he'd left, beside the bed table. ''You don't look nearly as bad as I feel this morning, Coop. I need to get out for a ride, I'm way too stiff when I wake up, these days. '' the Wagonmaster joked.

''Then maybe you should be the one stuck in bed here.'' Coop offered. '' Trade you places?''

''No, sir. Because of the two of us, I'm **still** the one who **wasn't **beaten within an inch of his life, by mistake I might add, a little while ago.''

''Reckon those lunatics are the only ones who made the mistake that time, Chris. Jemmy says his fellas are working on smokin' them out of wherever their hole in the ground may be. And

I told Jemmy **I'm not** stayin' behind anywhere, for any reason, when he goes to finally take those fellows down. Thought I'd best tell you now, so you can work on getting' used to the idea. ''

'' And am I supposed to be surprised by just how rash you can be, at this point in our acquaintance? Because I'm not, Coop.'' Chris asked, with a half grin.

Coop laughed and looked down a moment, and smiled a touch sadly, when he saw and pulled his worn and weathered journal, from the shelf under the bed table. '' You knew Daddy, Chris.'' the Texan said and it was no longer a question. '' So, I figure you know how I came by this beat up old journal, too, don't you?''

'' As a matter of fact, I do. Because as it happens I have one of those, from the same source exactly. Yours was a going to boarding-school present. And mine was a thank you gift, Danny gave me, when I agreed to do something for him.'' Chris nodded.

Now Coop looked up and over sharply at the Gloucesterman. '' To do something for him, Chris?'' he echoed, warily. '' Or to do something for me, sometime, when a good chance,

or a **good job** came up?''

'' No, for Danny. And that's the G-d's honest truth of the matter.'' Chris answered looking the younger man directly in the eye. ''Go on, Coop, I fully expected you to ask these questions.''

''' Alright, fine. T'other night you said… I was a little muzzy. But I'm still pretty sure you said only you, and me, now, Kate and Jemmy know you knew my father. Did I hear you right, Chris? Nobody else on the train, on the crew knows this?''

''Not one other living soul. And I have no intention of that ever changing, Coop. This is strictly between you and I, and Jemmy because he's your family and your doctor, and Katie, because she just wouldn't let go till she knew.''

'' **What** started her askin, though?'' Coop asked, glad to have those questions settled.

'' She said she's wondered from the time you came to work for me, how you and I get on so well, as different as we are. And part of my answer to that, to you, Coop is that yes, I see a lot of your father in you. And **we** stayed friends for forty years, and a little more. And you

**still** haven't asked me **what **Danny thanked me for doing, with my journal.'' the Wagonmaster noted.

''Well, Chris if you say that was something between you and Daddy…'' Coop shrugged.

''More like between me and both your parents. And I have a feeling you'll like this part of the story.''

'' Okay, Chris. Let's hear it, then.'' the Texan said and gingerly leaned back, as his right side remained a tad bit tender.

'' It happened when your father took another one of his absolutely rock-hard stubborn stands. And as usual, he held it against all opposition and all comers, including mine and not a few

of his own cousins. But Danny Smith wasn't going to budge a fraction of an inch, not on

that particular issue. And I can only think he caught a fair amount of trouble afterwards, on that account. And I can't tell you his reasons, Coop, I never asked Danny and he never offered. He wrote me in the late summer of '44, when Beth…. When your mother had given birth to a son. ''

'' '44… that was me, then.''

'' Yes. And you were strong and healthy, which was grand news …''

'' They'd had some troubles, before that.'' Coop nodded. ''So, my Dad wrote you. And you came down to Raleigh, where they were stayin' with cousins.''

'' Because, from what I gather, **you** were in your usual hurry to get someplace, in that case, to get born. And I came down to tell my friend Danny Smith that I **couldn't **do what he'd asked in his letter. I **fully** intended to tell him he was just going to stir up a hornet's nest,

hurt the family's feelings. In fact, I was **determined **your father should rethink his notion; his notion that his Yankee friend Chris from Gloucester should stand up for his new born son. And this journal was the thank you gift Danny gave me, when I 'saw things his way'. So I stood up for you with your Cousin Jessamyn… And she was Jemmy's mother, is that right?''

'' Yeah, Cousin Jessy.'' Coop chuckled. '' When we were little, Jemmy and I and some of the other cousins would just make Jess go bright red, callin' him Jesse… Figure he got over that, not long after he knocked most of us silly. Chris, Daddy… asked you to do that, to be my

g-dfather and **never said why he asked?"' **

'' Not in my hearing, except for some generalizations about how friendships, true friendships **don't and shouldn't** recognize borders, politics or even the Mason-Dixon line.''

'' He said somethin' like that to me, once, when he was dyin', and we all **knew** Th' war was comin' over the next rise, almost.'' Coop nodded.

'' Your father was a very remarkable man, I'd even say a wise and a very good man, Coop, one I'm glad to say was my friend, my very good friend, for years. And as I said already, I see Danny in you, to a great extent.''

'' Especially the **stubborn** part?'' Coop asked with a dry laugh.

''At times, yes, definitely, at times.'' Chris chuckled, wondering when the younger man would get as angry as he'd expected.

''But you haven't said yet how you ever got to know … Daddy. How'd that ever happen?'' Coop asked.

'' We both were sent to a boarding school in Alexandria, when I was eleven and a half, and Danny was twelve. And I never expected to last out the year there, myself. It was all too far from home to me, and far too different. But that was what families did for the sons, whenever they could afford it. And I know I would have flunked out from sheer homesickness, if not for Danny.'' Chris answered, smiling at the memory. ''But the truth of the matter was, at first your father wasn't about to befriend a damn Yankee boy from way up in Massachusetts! Nosiree!''

'' Figure he must've changed his mind then, about you, if not about all damn Yankees.'' Coop suggested.

'' He did. He did. Danny made all the difference for me that year; he made himself my friend, my very good friend. And we kept up a fairly lively correspondence, afterwards, too. ''

'' He really liked writin' letters, Daddy did. He said his Daddy taught him it was a gentlemanly thing to do, and b'sides it got him collecting stamps.'' Coop laughed, looked at his own journal again and then back to Chris, as something else occurred to him. '' Chris, you… you did come down to Nacogdoches, didn't you, when Daddy died? I think I remember seeing you, then.''

'' I was there for not even a week's time.'' Chris nodded. '' And I stayed as much out of the way as I could, then. With everything else going on, with the election and all, that fall and that winter. The last thing I wanted was to make things harder for Beth…''

''Some of our neighbors, hell, some of our cousins would have been the ones to make things harder, not you. The hotheads, the local fire-eaters, would have made great hay about Dad's friend from New England, the dang fools! **They** were the same ones who thought we'd run

the Yankees out of Virginia, Kentucky, and Maryland in a month's time and then camp out

in Washington's City, roast a duck on the White House lawn that kind of thing, before we

had to come home for the next harvest.''

''And some of the boys, some of my son's friends were just as stirred up, just as naïve.''

''W**e were all fools**, back then.'' Coop muttered. ''We had **no **idea! And by the time I got home, with all that, happened in the War, I was **almost glad** Daddy wasn't there, wasn't there to know it, to see the scare-crows we **all** were by then, gimpin' on home.'' Coop frowned and shook his head.

'' I don't think I've ever heard you talk about that time, before.'' The Wagonmaster said, wondering if his friend wanted to confide something more.

'' There's not much to talk **about.** We straggled on home. We, well, **some **of us had our horses. And some had their side-arms. But we truly deserved the nickname by then. We really **were **the 'ragged Old First'.''

''Beth and all the other mothers and wives must have been glad to see you home, no matter what you looked like.''

'' They said they were.'' Coop shrugged. '' But momma… she already knew … 'bout Jeff.

So we, I don't think we even said his name for awhile, it just hurt too much! It all hurt too

much! A lot of us came out here, out west, because we **couldn't** keep to home, anymore.

It was all about tryin' to be just the same, when it couldn't, **ever.** And we were too much changed, all cut off, and uprooted, y' know. ''

'' I think that's understandable, Coop.'' Chris offered.

''No, no it's **not**!'' the scout suddenly shouted, turning to Hale, his temper on the rise, as it always was when the late war came up. '' **It's not anything anybody** **in their right mind** could understand! We were all boys, **just boys**!

And we marched away from our homes, from our kin, from our neighbors, and we were all sure, all ready to become **heroes!** We thought we'd come home like … Roman conquerors! We **left **with parades and bands and speeches, with folks cheerin' and shoutin' for us! And we marched, and trained or took steamboats thousands of miles away. And when the music died, and the speeches stopped; and the whole parade part was done, we woke up **in hell!**

And the G-ds honest truth of the matter, Chris, and **you know this**! You know… **none of the** **boys** **we were,** ever **really **got home again, not one! **Not even one! We all … All the boys who marched away, we died … **thousands and thousands of miles away from their homes. And when the shootin' war finally stopped, **a lot of ghosts** marched back to where those boys came from. **Armies of ghosts!** **That's what** came back to Georgia, to Tennessee, to Virginia, to both the Carolinas, to Mississippi, and to Texas! And I guess, it'd only be fair and true to say more armies of ghosts was what came back to Ohio, and Maine, and Vermont and … ''

'' And Massachusetts.'' Chris nodded, sadly.

''You see? You see, **you know** it's… you know I'm only tellin the G-d's truth here! **We died!** All of us boys; **and the whole, entire world we knew, it died!** And for the life of me, Chris, most days now, I can't come up with **why**, I can't come anywhere near to **what the devil it was for!'' **

'' Coop, if you … I don't really think you want me to answer that.''

'' There's no answer! And I can't…You said you haven't heard me talk about this; Well

now you know why! **I can't be there, either!** I can't go** back **there! I can't go back

and change what happened in the war. And I can't … I couldn't stay to home once Momma died, either. But I came home and there were folks who **wanted** me to stay there, I still

had family there! ** And I'm … I got off lucky! **I came home with all four limbs intact,

not deafened, not blinded, not poisoned with dope, and not crazed, well, not so much.

And there **were so many** boys who came back maimed and who came back to nothin',

Chris, just to **nothin'!** But we'd all been 'to see the Elephant' a few thousand times by

then and we couldn't - Some days, **I **could **hardly breathe **there!''

Chris listened and watched Coop, now intently, as the younger man seemed to pull back a curtain on himself, seemed to let loose as though a dam burst. Clearly these were thoughts he'd held and held back for some time now. And just as clearly they left him shaken. But as the Wagonmaster watched and waited, the scout pulled that 'curtain' partly closed again and looked at his friend.

''Well, like I say, now you know why I don't … talk about it , all that much. I can hardly hang onto my temper once I start ridin' that direction. '' The scout shrugged. ''Figure that's the one thing I may have in common with those … folks that took me for Jess. They've got a mad on all the time, seems like and it's a lot to do with the war, and all. But, I can't and I don't want to even try keeping up that kind of ragin' and rantin'. So, that's where we're different, them and me. So, how come you're smilin' at me, when I was just yellin' my head off?''

'' I'm smiling because a week or so ago, my angry friend, you could hardly draw enough breath to whisper, much speak aloud or yell. **And** I'm smiling, Coop, because I was thinking about Danny, about your father, and that he'd be immeasurably proud of the things that get you so angry, these days.''

'' Mebbee. D' you think so?'' Coop asked, wondering how much there was to learn about his father from Chris Hale, and how much there was to learn about himself, as well.

'' I'm absolutely, _absolutely_ sure.''

''Chris, you came down when Momma passed on, too.'' Coop said now, looking at the Wagonmaster, and it wasn't a question.

''Beth became my good friend, too, I'm lucky enough to say. So, yes, of course I came to say goodbye.''

'' And they asked you to be my g-dfather, instead of Cousin Frank Jess' Daddy, or Cousin Stephen, Jemmy's father, or any number of other cousins, uncles, and all that.'' Coop went on, almost to himself. '' They trusted you…with me. Maybe I should thank them. Maybe I should thank Kate, next time I see her, too.''

'' Knowing Katie, she's not likely to forget or to let me forget the 'favor' she's done us.'' Chris offered with a rueful smile. ''That woman can be **genuinely** incorrigible, unrelenting **and **obdurate at times. But don't tell her I said so, she's likely to be complimented!''

'' Hey, now, Chris,'' Coop grinned and winked at his friend, glad to change the subject. '' Can you please … I don't even know what those fancy boardin' school type of words might mean, much less how to how to say them! What's wrong?'' the scout asked when Hale shook his head.

''Nothing, except I know you **went** to a boarding school near Raleigh the year you were fifteen, along with some of your cousins. That's when Danny gave you your journal. So you don't have play down how bright you are, or talk down with me the way you might with Charlie Wooster, whose grasp of the English language often seems to elude him altogether. Well, now what's wrong with you, Coop?'' Chris asked as the younger man shook his head.

'' You make it sound as though I **nearly went to college! **But I begged off from another year

at that school and from any idea of more schoolin'! Reckon Daddy wasn't so proud just then, and maybe didn't write you about that! I never really wanted to go in the first place. That was a lot more Jemmy's idea than mine. That kind of thing just … just don't suit me!'' Coop protested.

''Coop, calm down, for the love of G-d. It's not as though I said I know you broke into a bank vault, down in east Texas somewhere, when you were six months old!'' Chris exclaimed.

'' That's b'cause **that never happened** 'til I was **ten months old!**'' Coop answered,

feeling like laughing and shouting in exasperation, at the same time. '**'Y' see, in Texas**,

we don't start robbin' banks till we can sleep the night through **and eat solid food**; so

we're less trouble to th' jailers, **should we get caught!** Reckon you go to it earlier in

up in Massachusetts, though, cos you're all so danged previous up there, anyhow!''

''Precocious, I think, is the word you're tripping over there. And besides, wasn't that next year when Danny became ill?'' Chris asked. '' So you wouldn't have wanted to be away from home, for any reason.''

'' Surely not a few hundred miles away, no. The year before, though he put his foot down. Guess you know what happened when he did that.''

'' All sorts of things that should have been impossible to say the least.'' Chris nodded.

'' Like a Gloucesterman coming to Raleigh to become a g-dfather. You have your father's strong will, and in good measure, my friend. And I know Danny taught you when to apply it, and when to let things be.''

'' So, my stubborn streak, the one that's wide as the Rio Grande I get from Daddy. Anything else?'' Coop asked, finding himself more and more curious.

'' Well, I'm more sure, the longer I know you, Coop that you have both Danny's long, slow burning tendency to outrage over injustices and wrongs, and Beth's quicker, more transitory, rightful wrath over pretty much the same kind of things. And from Danny, I believe you also got your keen judgments about people. **He **never suffered fools gladly, either.

Added to that, I don't think too many men your age actively keep a journal these days, the way you do. That's Beth's influence I think, she was a genuine bookworm, and an avaricious reader. And I don't need to tell you that you have your mother's way with sick children, broken-winged birds and wild horses.''

'' Panicky foals and broody mares, too, when I get the chance.'' Coop smiled. '' Chris, don't take this the wrong way, alright. But, it occurs to me to ask, if Kate hadn't kept at you, or

I hadn't got bunged up, how long would you have waited to let me know about this?''

'' I'm not sure, Coop. Each of those two things alone would normally be a persuasive motivation. When the one came galloping in on the tail of the other, the way Gambler

came into the camp that night, I knew I had to take the next chance I got to tell you. And enough of this, for now. your right side's flaring up again. I'll get more compresses and hot water. And maybe when we get this under control again you'll tell me what panicked you before.''

'' Panicked? Nothing. I'm not sure I'd call it panicking, anyway. I just don't like pain meds.'' Coop frowned, his side was hurting again. And he didn't want to pursue the topic Chris opened. ''druther do without, as and when I can. Just don't like 'em. Never did.

Momma didn't much like 'em either. She'd use things from her herb garden or the little

woods behind Granddaddy's house instead of pills and powders. You'd know that, too, right?''

'' Yes, I know how gifted Beth was with such things. And she taught you a few things about what to put in a poultice or with a bag of camphor, or in a cup of tea as and when needed.

I've seen you use that knowledge. But she didn't necessarily avoid other kinds of medicine.

And you're not going to talk about this, right now, are you?'' Hale sighed seeing the stubborn set of Coop's jaw, neck and shoulders.

'' You know me pretty darn well, by this time, Chris. What do you think?'' Coop asked, feeling out of sorts again and perfectly willing to match wills with his friend and g-dfather.

''I think I'd better get these compresses going. Try not to shift around too much, while I do that, alright, Coop?'' the Wagonmaster, well aware of the intractable nature of the younger man, let his questions slide, for now.

''Sure.'' Coop nodded, content with his small victory, for now. Thing about small victories, sometimes you just had to take the small ones, piling each one on the others, until you finally had a decent sized hill to crow from, he considered. It was nothing any former Confederate hadn't learned to do almost as an art form by '65. On the other hand there was no one the scout knew who could wait out a stubborn 'opponent' of one kind or another, longer and more patiently than Chris Hale could. It was just something in his danged Yankee nature, the Texan speculated. A lot of these Yankees, reasonable as they were most times, soon or late hit on a spot, a plan or an idea they just wouldn't budge from.

The best example Coop knew of this troublesome Yankee trait in practice, was his cousin Jemmy's present' 'employer', Ulysses Simpson Grant. Faced with horrific losses that would and did send his predecessors back across the Rapidan, the Rappahannock and the Potomac, time and again, then General Grant just sat down, and wrote his dispatches, including, according to the famous story, one to the War Department, stating Grant's intention ' to fight it out along this line, if it takes all summer'. Then he started his troops marching south, instead of north, keeping that direction until they got to Appomattox! Danged stubborn Yankees, anyway!

Chris, true to his word was back as quickly as possible, with a pair of orderlies, more towels and more hot water. Coop thought about making some excuse to delay this process, and knew that wouldn't work for an instant. He thought about trying to get Chris to throw a haymaker, right at Coop's jaw, sending the scout unconscious. The Wagonmaster wasn't much for fisticuffs, either.

What these compresses were already starting to do was relieve the pain in Coop's right side enough to let him get more sleep, trying to rebuild his reserves devoured by fever. What Coop most didn't want to do right now was fall asleep. The dreams he'd been having since his fever broke were, maybe because they were much more clear in some ways, much dimmer in others, far more disturbing.

But Coop wasn't ready to discuss them with Chris or Jemmy, or with his own thoughts, either.

So, Coop chose to sit quietly, acting passive and pretty much innocuous, while the pain and tension in his side began to ease, while he began to be sleepy again. These were only dreams, after all. He'd just ride them out. He'd just stop worrying at them like a dog with an old hunting boot. They were only dreams, after all. Only dreams. Sure.

And he was a full grown, entirely rational man. He wasn't one to be afraid of much in the world around him, and surely not of these vivid, disjointed, nonsensical dreams. The time to worry, some more wakeful part of his brain told Coop, is when these dreams tried to make sense; and even more so, when they became sensible. So, you don't need to worry, yet. There's still time for these unwanted, inexplicable dreams to just fade, as you get better. That's it, they're just going to fade away… soon. They're just dreams.

_He was back face down in the shallow stream branching off the North Platte …and anywhere he didn't ache he was burning up, shaking with chills. __A lot of somethings seemed to be touching him that he could just barely feel, now._

H_e had no more strength, and less and less will . He was losing… something. He was losing, letting go; something strange and close around him and suffocating was taking over his frame. Something sharp and bitter as his worst, his darkest dreams, was wrapping itself around each of his senses. _

_A freezing fog from G-d alone knew what or where was settling on his mind, on his thoughts, and somehow on his breathing, And its nature, it's sharpness and it's destructive hold were all things he knew, or things he might have known, recognized or recollected, from somewhere, eons ago It was shortening each breath, and whatever it's source, he only knew it could surely, easily destroy him. _

_Only that sharpness remained, touching to screaming, frantic, conversely paralyzing, panicked life every fiery nerve, for an endless succession of tortured breaths.. It was killing him and he couldn't move a muscle against it. all but numb now, should have been relief from pain shooting through his ribcage, his limbs, his back and neck. It wasn't. In fact, it terrified… _

''Coop! Coop, wake up, now! Coop, wake up! It's just a nightmare. Wake up, and look at me. You're just having a nightmare. '' Chris Hale was urging him to believe, to prove, to open his eyes, and…

Coop's eyes flew open wide and he stared at Hale for a moment, gasping for air, as if he'd been drowning. So much for a hill made of small victories to climb and crow from. The Texan shook his head, looking away and down, grimacing at the admission.

'' Nope. It's a memory, not just a nightmare. When I was down … when I couldn't move to save my soul. That's when they drugged me, Chris. That's when I felt their damned needles, and heard the syringes, clinking against each other. And I hadn't heard that sound since…

the war. But I knew it. And I couldn't move as much as quarter of inch, by then. I didn't…

I didn't want it to be true, it scares th' bejeezus out of me, in fact. m' sorry, Chris, I lied, b'fore. The bastards drugged me.''

''Well, then, there's just one more reason not a single one of those cowards had best ever come up in **my** rifle sights.'' Chris growled.

''They'd never stand a chance, if they did, Chris. Ever.'' Coop grinned tiredly. Time was he would have turned away or pushed away the idea of being safeguarded. Now, now he had a

g-dfather. And Coop suspected that was just one of the things they couldn't help but do, when and as needed.

17


End file.
